Ungodly Hours
by x0x.RunnSmackkintoYouu.x0x
Summary: /...I felt the floors shaking and cracking under the pressure. I'd place my feet over the breaks to keep the path together but the more I stepped, the more of the past fell through. It was over now. And it was bittersweet.\\ Niley
1. Prologue

Slowly emerging through the mist came a young woman. I was in awe. Her clothes were tattered; her shirt short enough to show her belly button ring and her skirt ending around her thigh. She was a mess. And in fact, I..._liked it_. She hadn't said anything to me in particular. I was standing right out of her way, on the curb almost. The woman just walked past me like she was just another worthless girl told to hit the road with her thumb up.

We all know she deserved better than that. This woman was beautiful. Smart even, as she whispered _"Excuse me" _s and _"Thank you, dear"_s to people ahead of me. I, a Harvard acceptant, felt stupid watching her. For I had dreamed of being perfect for years and eyeing this lady—in what hopefully was her worst condition—made manners seem godly. This ragged up angel was everything everybody I knew was not.

Her body faded into the city smog faster than my brain fully registered her and before I knew it I felt my feet flapping against the sidewalk. I was chasing her.

_Really,_ I thought. _You're actually going to chase after this chick? How desperate!_

I had no time to listen to myself. It didn't take too long to find a ride in this town. She'd be gone.

"Hey!" I called after her. "Hey, hold up!"

The girl turned to me, confused. "What?" she snapped.

I quit running and actually felt my heart beat. Fast. "You need a ride?" I panted.

She shook her head. "I don't take rides from strangers..._anymore_." She muttered. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to hear the last part but I did. She started to sweat suddenly.

I checked my watch. It was almost 7 pm and nearly seven degrees. I was cold even in my jacket and scarf. I didn't get it. Staring out into the street to not occupy her, I heard coughing and heavy, quick breathing. It continued for minutes before I couldn't take it anymore. I was worried.

"You okay, there?"

She frowned. "Yea—" *cough* "Why?"

"You don't look so good."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No, no, I mean your health. You...you're beautiful." I babbled. I reconsidered my thoughts and started again. "You seen a doctor in a while?"

"Uhh, no." she yawned. "Leave me alone, please."

She eyes watered. I got it! The coughing? The breathing? The tiredness? She was ill. And not with a cold.

I grabbed her wrist. "Come with me." I demanded, pulling her along.

She fought back. "No, you douche! Stop!" she ordered. "Help me! HELP ME!"

"That's what I'm trying to do! Now, stop fighting!" I explained.

The girl kept pushing me away and it wasn't long before we started a spectacle on the street. Everyone was watching, but I was _not _going to let this woman go unattended.

"Listen!" I yelled over her screaming. "You _NEED_ a test!"

She kicked and kicked 'till she could kick no more. The fight was over. She was beat: her eyes drowsy, coughing over and over again, she gave in. "Okay...let's go."


	2. Chapter One

She swung her feet back and forth in no rhythm and I watched, fascinated. She sighed real loud and I kept quiet. I didn't even want to _breathe_ at the moment. Any noise, any interruption that screwed her thoughts, I'd pay for it. She'd look at me looking at her and the doctor would look at the both of us.

"Cute," he would say. "You guys a couple?"

"No," I'd reply and blush like mad. "No."

The doctor clapped his hands and rubbed them together; creating heat the woman stared at and wordlessly begged to be in. She licked her ruby red lips wet and smashed them against each other. Then, with trembling hands, she flicked her loose hairs to where her hair…style was?

I crooked my neck. _Was _it a style? I mean there was shape here and there and the honey brown streaks were obviously bought.

_She tried._ I decided.

"Hypoglycemia." The doctor announced. "Miley Stewart: hypoglycemic."

I nodded. "Ah. Just as I thought." _Mmh. Mileyyy. Miley. What a beautiful name._

Miley Stewart's foot swinging didn't end. It just got less systematic by the seconds. "M'kay," she spoke finally. "What do you want from me?"

The doctor tapped his pen on his clipboard a few times and stared at her. He sighed. "You need to eat better. What've you eaten today, girlie?"

"Lots."

"Like?"

She was silent. Her feet froze still. Her blue eyes wandered the room and she moaned.

The doctor huffed again. "Listen, I don't wanna be playing these games. We're supposed to be closed."

This was true. The clinic's final light shut off when we arrived at the curb, wet and freezing cold.

"Hey! Hey! Sir! Sir, could you please let us in?" I shouted. "This woman is ill!"

He snapped the blinds open and shot me a death glare. "We're all ill, boy!" he retorted, crankily. His eyes were the darkest shade of green I'd ever seen on a man, his peach-colored freckles and dark bags fixed nicely below.

Miley yanked on my wrist then. "Whatever," she hissed at me, pissed off I had drove her all this way. "Let's go." She faced the now shut window and said thank you to man who wasn't there.

The blinds clacked open again and Miley shrieked.

"Come on, girlie. Hurry up. Inside."

So in we went. The man—Dr. Wilson was the name—gave Miley several blood tests and his lukewarm, leftover coffee (I would know because I was the one handed it to her while he got princess a coat to put over mine.)

I was so caught up in my thoughts Miley had to push me to get me going. She had medication in one hand and a receipt in the next.

The walk to the car was just as silent as the first, but somehow it was comfortable. Miley Stewart walked closer to me…Not as to be walking _with _me, but beside me, which was nice and gave me tingles. She, again, had my umbrella all to herself and I tried not look as cold and soaked as I was.

We got to my car and I was grateful my fingers weren't so sore I couldn't handle the keys. Three attempts and they were in the lock, two and they twisted, four and the driver door was opened. I got in and unlocked the passenger's, and this time Miley was happy to get in. She did up her seatbelt and placed her meds in her lap. She stared ahead.

So did I.

"Well, uh, strang—"

"Nicholas," I said and shook my head. "Nick. Lucas. Nick Lucas."

_Smoooooooth._

"You gonna take me home, Nick Lucas?" she wondered, suddenly playful, amused by my babbling.

"Sure," I responded. I put the car in reverse and backed out, eyes dead on Miley. "Where to?"

She smirked at me. "Wherever you're going." She pulled her hand out and traced my jaw line with her index and middle finger, setting life to more tingles.

"Mm'kay." I said breathlessly.

Miley retracted. "Good." She smiled…then frowned. "Now eyes on the road."


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far. Longer chapter. More Nick than Miley just because. :)**

**Oh, and "paix" is "peace" is French.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"What?" I asked Miley when we pulled up my driveway. The look on her face made me uneasy. It was upset and shocked and amazed all at once.<p>

Her eyes didn't leave the house. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" she spat. She was angry, I could tell. Why?

I shifted. "This is where I live?" I answered, so uncomfortable it came out a question. The ride here was fine. We talked…only about her prescription but it was something. I wanted to think I had no reason to be so troubled, but I did. She was mad.

Miley shook her head and looked down. "What the hell am _I_ doing here?" she muttered.

Again I may have heard what I wasn't supposed to. "You asked to come here." I told her.

"Mmh,"

I watched her some more and she just looked at her hands as if they told her secrets. A few moments passed and then Miley grabbed the door handle and shook it violently.

"Open the door!" she snapped, "Get me out!"

"Wait!" I broke in. "I'll get your bags."

She looked at me viciously and shook her head again, making her extensions looser than before. "N-no-no-no, _no_! I'm not going anywhere with you…especially not your… _castle_!"

I tried, "Miley,"

"No!" she shouted. "Listen, Nich_olas_. I am not a cat or a stray puppy. I don't need your charity. I don't _need_ you to drive me to the doctor; I don't_ need_ you to pay for my meds and I _certainly_ don't need you to take my ass in!" she took a deep breath and finished with "I'm sorry your little Snow White fantasy isn't working out."

I frowned all too confused. "Miley. You think I'm doing this because I feel sorry for you?"

"What, you wanna get with me instead?" *scoff* "Sorry, babe."

"No," I insisted, "I want you safe. That's all. Safe."

"I'm already safe, Nick."

"On the streets?"

She squinted and said "Yes," in the coldest tone.

"Fine." I unlocked the doors. "Go. Get out! I'm sure you can find your way without my help."

"_Fine!_" She exited the car, sans medication, murmuring nasty words under her breath. She click-flop'd her way down the driveway with both heels—one broken, one not—on her feet.

I stared into the rear view mirror and observed her. _She's lucky the rain is letting up and only a couple drops will actually hit her._ Once she was on my neighbour's property, I got out of the car myself and I left my umbrella and her meds, too, just in case Miley decided to break in and take them.

On the way to the house, I peered over my shoulder. Miley was sitting on the street curb, looking into her hands again. My heart dropped a few inches. _No,_ I told myself. _She said she's fine._ And with that I went all the way to the porch and rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" I heard my mother cheerfully through the speaker. "Who goes?"

I pressed the speak button to reply. "Ma, it's cold." I whined, irritated and upset by today's events. And at that moment I remembered I had a ten page essay due tomorrow at 7:15 a.m. Miley couldn't be the only thing on my mind. Not tonight, anyway.

"Whoooo goessssss?" My mother crooned.

I groaned and smashed on speak. "Nick, Mom. Nick goes."

"Nick who?"

"Nicholas. Jeremiah. Lucas." I hissed behind my teeth.

"Oh," she said suddenly excited. "Okay, honey."

I heard the door click open for me and took one last scan down the street. At the end of my last gaze, Miley Stewart and I locked eyes. We stared for moment, but I was the one to break the game and when I pushed open the front door.

"Nickkyyyyyyyyy!" I heard Frankie's voice race up to me…His feet, too. I gave him a hug when he approached, picking him up off the marble tile and giving him a few spins.

"Welcome home, dear." My mother greeted me, stepping up to where Frank stood. I put my little brother down and gave my ma a hug. Each person was nice and warm for a change.

"Joe and Kev?" I asked of my older brothers.

"Mm," she hummed. She was delighted by her knowledge. "Kevin's in a meeting spree with the corporate, and Joseph, well," she giggled, very pleased. "Marseille."

"Marseille, France? Why?"

She grinned, leading Frank and I into the kitchen. "He landed a huge deal with World Touch. He and Antoinette left Sunday night."

I nodded and rolled my eyes. "Antionette," I said to myself.

"Nick, she's great and a very gifted photographer." My mother held. "Taught Joseph everything he knows." She handed me some dough for the pasta and pointed at it. "Kneed that for me?"

So I did. And as I did, my mother went on and on about Joe's girlfriend/agent.

"She's worked in France before, honey." She said.

I looked up at the chandelier, kneading harder to convey my annoyance.

"Her portraitures are near flawless, her shots of the Casa Loma are beautiful, and she, herself, is gorgeous. Joseph truly seems to like her and vise versa. France is like a…working _vacation_ for them."

I threw the dough on the counter and saw Frankie and pick at it. I turned for the sink.

"Franklin, don't eat that." Ma said behind me and I heard a light smack on his hand.

"Do you really think they're in France for a job?" I asked, laughing to myself at my mother's gullibility. "I mean come on, Mom. Do you _really_ think Antoinette flew Joe all the way to Marseille, France for him _just_ to take _photos_ of her?" I rinsed my hands off.

I saw her give my younger brother a napkin and then saunter over to me. "What do you think they're doing?" she asked me quietly, showing more cluelessness.

I crossed my arms and laughed against my teeth. "No…nothing, Mom. Never mind." I told her.

She frowned.

"Well, I got an essay to finish. 6 of out 10 pages done….Paix."

- x.0.x -

I gave the screen a damn hard look, reading the disaster I created over and over.

.

_Project management is therefore Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley. Miley is beautiful. Miley is gorgeous. Miley Miley Miley, Miley Stewart. Stewart, Miley. Miley Lucas. Nick & Miley Lucas. Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Lucas. Miley Miley Miley. Miley-Miley-Miley Yelim. trawetS yeliM. _

_"You gonna take me home, Nick Lucas?" she wonders, suddenly playful._

_"Sure," I respond. I put the car in reverse and back out, eyes dead on Miley. "Where to?" I ask, bursting confidence._

_She smirks at me. "Wherever you're going." She pulls her hand out and traces my jaw line with her index and middle finger, setting life to more tingles._

"_I think you know exactly where I'm going." _

_I undo Miley's seatbelt and in one quick movement I push her to the backseat. _

"_Oh, I see." Miley coos. She goes to pull her shirt off but I lean over and beat her to it. I prowl into the back of the car to join Miley and when I'm there I kiss her neck softly. 3 times down and she says, "Oh, Nick. You're so smooth and indubitably attractive. I bet you live in a __**beautiful**__ home in which I'd love to stay."_

_I smirked. "I know, baby." I kissed her body some more._

"_Mmm. But first,"_

"_Hmn,"_

"_Make love to me."_

_._

"No!" I shouted, jumping from my chair. I hit and held the backspace key until my entire naughty fantasy was not there.

I didn't breathe. It felt wrong. Page nine was now white as snow and I twitched because of it.

"Control…Z" I instructed myself and it was back. The whole thing. I smiled at it, shaking my head.

"Miley," I turned away from the blue light the computer was making and let my head fall. "Look what you've done to me." I giggled.

I paced my room for a minute and just thought. Not about the essay. Not about the 10 page, finished essay at all.

About Miley, about Miley's hair, her eyes, her voice, her smirk, her frown…and that one tooth that was off. I thought about those two moments in my car Miley Stewart touched me. How bad I wanted her then. To take my ring and throw it on dash and just….

_Maybe she is right._ I considered, growing disappointed. _Maybe I do just _want_ her for myself._

I started for my mother's room, hoping she was still awake and would have some advice on this situation. She should. She's always had answers.

"Mom?" I called. I knocked twice and stood.

"Down here." She replied from below me.

_Downstairs. The living room._

"Don't wake your father, hun."

_He's home?_

I went downstairs and took a seat diagonal to her in a different couch. "Dad's home?" I raised. The stupid question gave me time to think about how I was going to bring up Miley and my infatuation. It also made me wonder how long I was locked up in my room working. What, 5…6 hours? It was close to midnight now.

"Yeah, he's been working overtime. He's got to be at the office by 6 tomorrow. Went straight to bed. I said he'd better eat, but…you know…skipped dinner." She explained, and I felt her heart sink.

"That's all anybody seems to be doing," I said, thinking of Miley. "Workin' their asses off and skipping meals." _Just like Miley._

My mother looked to me, her eyes cheerless and wet for the first time in a long time. The long time Dad's was in New York. She just nodded and looked back to the TV. She hated Conan. "So, uh…what'd you come for, sweetheart?" she asked.

I blushed, suddenly happy she was watching Conan O'Brien and not me. "Well..um. See…—"

"Denise!" We heard my father. Loud. And. Clear.

"What is it, Paul? Franklin's sleeping."

"Honey, Franklin Nathaniel isn't working 13 hour shifts after two hour flights!" He shouted. Only God knows why he couldn't lean over the banister and _talk_. "Bring me some of that penne."

Mom sighed, getting up. "Guess who's hungry?"

I watched Conan interview a blinged-up rapper on mute at the same time I listened to my mother getting a plate together for Dad. 5 scoops of penne, 6 scoops of fettuccini sauce and she cut and warmed fresh mushrooms just for him.

I snagged a peek of her going up the stairs, looking like a waitress, plate above her shoulder. She also had her nightgown straighten out for looks.

"Nicholas," she addressed me.

"Yeah,"

"I'll get back to you in a second. But could you pour your father a glass of—"

"Sure," I hopped up, knowing exactly. I walked into the kitchen and over to the water cooler. My eyes rolled knowing water wasn't the only thing it was cooling. I opened the little door and yanked out a beer.

"Ahh, Denise," my father voice came to my ears. He was still quite loud. Still…unimpressed. "Another vacant supper."

"Cup," I reminded to myself. It was hard to stay on track while eavesdropping.

"Well, the boys made it…Franklin made it…I mean, he helped…a lot." She stammered. After no response, she gave up. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

"No, really, I am sorry."

"It's okay." Dad said.

"Ice, ice." I kept moving.

A buzz rang throughout the room.

"Door." I paused at the refrigerator. "_Door?_" I ran over the speaker and hit the blue button. "Lucas residence,"

No answer as my dad had words with my mother. No answer while he explained what a 'good' meal should be. No answer when he said she was going to have to make up for the penne in bed because they've never had _it_ in months.

I shuddered, walking to the front door, praying Frankie was still asleep. I peeked through the peephole and what do you know. Just the visitor I needed. I opened the door.

"Miley. …You're back."


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: OMYLORRD. I cannot**** believe it's been a MONTH since I've updated. I could've sworn it's been a bit over 2 weeks, but a month? Good gracious. Damn these assignments and circulating illnesses keeping me so busy and out of it. **

**So anyway, two chapters for you all. Not because I actually wrote two chapters worth of stuff, but because a lot happens and a lot is said and I think it'd be heavy to put everything in one chapter, so I split it up in two. I know the smaller the scroll bar is on a fic, the more I wanna say 'OMG, sooo muuucchh****' and leave. Don't wanna put you thr****ough that. (Although I believe I am with this A.N.)**

**Before You Read**

**Note1: **I like making Nick babble.** Note2: **Free IV Madison is not real. I named it after a friend of mine and the lyrics are mine as well.

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p><em>I peeked through the peephole and what do you know. Just the visitor I needed. I opened the door.<em>

**_"Miley. …You're back."_**

**- x. 0 . x -**

Miley stood there at the door, rocking back and forth and back again on her toes. I looked down, wiping the smile from my face with my hand and I realized she was actually rocking _on her toes_. She was barefoot.

"Yeah," she said. Her toes flinched.

My arms crossed against my chest and I tapped my own toes. It was chilly and I needed to keep myself from singing 'Na Na Na, I Told You So'. So I asked her, "What happened to your shoes?"

"Well, I, uh…was talking…_away_…from your house…and, uhh…There was a bird." She sucked a breath in and kept avoiding eye contact. "It was a big… _big_ bird."

I laughed, "I'm sure it was."

"Shut up!" she said and continued faster. "It just attacked me! I was just walking by and the b-tch was waddling around somebody's lawn. It sees me and it attacks me. F#cking attacks me! So I threw my shoes at it."

"M'hm,"

Miley went shy. "Yeah, and—uhh…I tossed my sandwich, too."

"Mmh," I hummed, understanding the 'attack'. "Interesting."

"Nick,"

She was exhausted. I could hear it. Just as exhausted as I was. Only difference was I wasn't homeless. I had a place to stay. I had family. And as much of as b-tch as Miley was, she was beautiful and deserved a bed.

I opened the door all the way and extended an arm to the inside. "Come on."

And maybe I was going crazy from the sheer happiness of her _wanting_ to stay, but I swear I saw her smile as she entered.

"Good God," she spoke softly, taking in her surroundings.

And that's when I took in my own.

The light swirled marble flooring, cream walls and the spiraled, glossy staircase _were_ beautiful. The hall to the left, a tunnel of my brother's photography, led straight to the kitchen. To left of that was the dining room and on the right existed the living area, wheezing blue and orange light from the television. The flickers shun just far enough to light Miley's eyes and one side of her face, turning her Avatar-like in one second and tan in the next.

"Welcome," I held.

"'Kay," looking up the chandelier she gaped at the crystals.

"What," I questioned, starting to take the jacket I forgot I owned off of Miley. I gave it a good shake once it was off; making sure it hadn't rained again. "You've never seen a chandelier before?"

She zoned in quite quickly. "Please." She snapped. "It's a ceiling light. I'm not blind." She grabbed the jacket from me. "Seen stuff like this a million times in magazines," She put it back on. "Just never in the real world."

I didn't question her on the jacket. She was probably still cold. "Come," I said and led her to the kitchen. "I'm sure you threw a lot of that sandwich."

"I did."

I asked her if she wanted some pasta and she nodded shyly in response. After preparing a plate for her, I turned for a fork and I spotted her, seated on the counter, sipping on a can.

_Dad's beer. _

"Miley." I snatched the quarter-empty can. "That's not yours."

She smiled and laughed. "What, you want it all to yourself, Mr. Drunky-Pants?" she took the can back—much like she did the jacket— shook it in my face and said, "Mmn, there's always a dirty habit to you rich folks."

"It isn't mine."

"So you're not a drunk?"

"It's my dad's." I clarified.

"So your dad's a drunk."

I stood for a moment. _Bingo._ "Give me that." I stole the beer and got going for upstairs.

- x.0.x -

"Are you going to take the jacket off?" I asked, leaning against the door to the guest room. I was about to let her forth.

"Not really." said Miley. She pulled the ends of the jacket close to her stomach and trembled a bit, indicating she was still chilly.

"It's warm in there." I promised. "There's a heater and blankets on the bed."

"That's nice." She busted through me, pushing the door open, and shut it when she was in.

I was flustered. Being pushed and shut out so hastily—especially after we ate penne together (I had seconds of it just to be with her) and talked about the bird, and my house, and the way garlic is used was weird. I didn't know whether or not to tell her I was off to take a shower. It was close to one o'clock and told her anyway.

- x.0.x -

"_Can you keep a secret? / I've been seeing you / Don't know how to fight it / I'm the night, you're my moon…"_

My eyes grew heavy and I closed them, rubbing towel on my abs. I sang to the song by Free IV Madison, thinking again and again of the girl in the room down the hall.

"_And we all need company / When I get long!"_

I opened my eyes and shifted my pupils left and right. _Yeah, that was definitely loud._ The last thing I wanted to wake anybody. Frankie snoozed through the whole dinner ordeal, Miley's entrance, and the sound of my parents'…_bed_ moving softly. Too much sound from Dad, not enough from Mom, I thought then. I removed the thought from my head just as carefully as I put pants on. Humming the song, I crossed the hall to my room and shut the door politely behind me.

I glanced at the clock. 1:16 AM. _Crap_. I cursed, realized what exactly made the clock so bright: the essay. The nine business page essay I'd convinced myself was complete through erotica. It was due in less than six hours.

"Coffee." I decided. Forgetting a shirt, I flew to the stairs. Stopping me was at the landing was Miley…shirtless…as well.

"You got anything I could wear to bed?" she asked, covering her_self_ …well, the little pink parts of herself, with my jacket.

_Do not stare. Do. Not. Stare. _"Uhhh…Umm…"

Suddenly, I was thankful for spacious pyjama pants.

I was finally able to spit something out moments later. "Third drawer down on your breast." I said. "…I-I mean left. Third drawer down on your left." *facepalm*

Miley went off, murmuring the chorus to Free IV Madison, pretending she wasn't laughing. "Thank you." She said and she closed the guestroom door.

_Yeah, this essay definitely isn't going to __be__ an essay. _

I reminded myself of the coffee I wanted and resumed my trip downstairs. "Coffee, essay. Coffee, essay." I repeated in a low voice. Getting to kitchen again, I opened the pantry the scanned the thing for some mix. None.

"Damn," There was no way this essay was getting finished. Not without coffee, and certainly not with braless company sleeping over just meters from my room. I had to go.

So I went back upstairs to retrieve my laptop and then my jacket.


	5. Chapter Four

"Where are you going?" Miley asked me when I picked up my jacket from the rocking chair she sat crossed-legged on.

"Nowhere," I lied. "I am going to wash this." Another lie. I had not a single intention of washing the jacket after what I had seen earlier.

"With your laptop?" she asked looking sceptical. "And your wallet?"

_Damn. _"Okay, okay. I'm going…out."

She nodded impassively, _M'kay_-ed, and went back to a novel. One of Jane Austen's works I'd seen my mother with. She dipped her index finger onto the surface of her tongue, touched a corner and flipped the page with a nice _'whisk!'_.

"You can come." I blurted out. _Crap. Crap! Big mistake. You idiot!_

Miley head moved up slowly, almost cautiously. Looking at me finally her blue eyes were saucers. I gave her an assuring nod. She got up from the chair, set the book down where her bottom was and ran a hand through her hair. It cooperated; turning what was a mess of blondes and browns into series of golden-brown waves. Miley flipped it all to one side and I noticed the logo on the grey sweatshirt she wore. Harvard.

I smirked. "I'll get you some pants."

- x.0.x -

We entered the closest Starbucks, a seven-minute wordless drive, and I suggested whilst I order she find us a table. Only two of the eight were occupied, but I needed thinking-space. Thinking-space I didn't have in the car as Miley Stewart sat next to me, still braless, in my sweatshirt and yellow _'Whats'sup Doc?'_ pyjama shorts. You could have sworn she was bottom-half-nude if you weren't in an SUV or truck.

"Helloooo? Hello, sir. Young man?"

"What?" I snapped. "Oh," I laughed dryly and went red. "I'm sorry." I told the woman my order and she repeated to the back almost inaudibly. It was weird. It was always busy and loud here during the day. Tons was brewing, tons was baking. But now, at 1 a.m, it was empty. Eerie almost.

I liked it.

"Here you are, sir." The woman said moments later, handing me a cup and a brown bag.

I took it and walked away. Once out of the way I eyed the place for Miley. And there she was: two tables down, one right. I smiled to myself (or maybe to everyone) and walked over there and sat down without the smile. Keeping it cool, I suppose. I took my laptop out of its bag and put it on the table. I was opening it when Miley said,

"You didn't say thanks."

"Huh?" I muttered, turning my laptop on and going into the bag again for my notes.

"The woman. She gave you what you wanted. You didn't say please and you didn't thank her."

I looked up. I gave a 'you serious?' glare and her eyes said 'yes, douchebag.'

"Well," I concluded, ready to get down to work. "I'm sorry." I slid the brown bag over to her side of the table – my opposite – and smiled. "I got this for you. You know, since you came."

She separated the top folds vigilantly and took a peak inside, one blue eye closed. She then smiled light-heartedly and pulled the cinnamon roll out. She dropped it down on the bag after realizing how messy it was.

She said a curse word and brought her finger up to her mouth. Then she sucked the icing off, just fast enough for me to stay clear of any presents from my downstairs.

_Work! _I told myself. I opened my essay file and scrolled down to my fantasy. To avoid loosing it again I opened another document, cut and pasted it there and saved it as Project Management Study Rough. And then, at last, I got to work. And I stayed at work all the times Miley licked her fingers and lips, and all the times she walked to the restroom and to get more napkins. Long after she had eaten the cinnamon roll and drank off a hot cocoa she had many napkins left and she made airplanes and origami, passing time as I typed.

It wasn't until she asked "How'd you see me, Nick?" that I paused completely.

"What?" I questioned back.

"How did you see me? I …you were just coming out of the salon—"

"Barber's,"

"H'Mm," She didn't buy it, and she had the right idea. "You just were coming out. I walked right past you…there were at least 66 people…and you saw me. Were you looking or something?"

"No, no." I jumped in. "You were right the _first_ time. I was just coming out and I saw you. I saw you were upset and you were sick. I wanted to help."

Miley pursed her lips and popped them out again. "Well," she said, expressionless. "Thank you. I really did need the help. I mean…"

She stopped for a while and flicked the wings of her third paper swan, the best of the four. Her face looked like she was contemplating. But it wasn't as attractive now that something was bothering her like crazy.

"You wanna talk about it?" My mother's classic line. It always worked.

But she shook her head quickly.

She blew air onto the swan's back with puckered lips. She looked up at me behind the laptop, and I? Well, I kept typing.

"His name's Josh." She opened up with and I shut the laptop soon as I heard her. "…and, um…he's interesting. He's in this band and he wants to make it big. He's already pretty known in Norwich, but you know…musicians."

I nodded blankly.

She sighed. "So he plays a lot with his buddies. The drummer, um, Ben's like five years older than us and the rest of 'em at 25 years old. He's married and crap, his wife Sel has a kid and he's out travelling the state for a record deal. Josh's never home, always out and he _never_ calls. And he is_not_ just playing shows…He bangin' the chicks that come to the shows, he gettin' his ass pleased and having the _time _of his _life_ whilst I sit around and wait."

"I'm so—"

"So you know what _I_ did? I started hanging out with the friends he left behind. He left Scotty and Hanna and Shane and Blair and they needed company. They needed a fifth. They needed that extra ten bucks every Saturday for booze and…well, other things and I was glad to join. I was lonely without him." Her voice trailed off and I could sense her sadness.

I let my fingers run across the top of the laptop. "You don't have other friends? No sisters, no co-workers…?"

She laughed half-heartedly. "No," she said, "I scared them all off."

"How?"

"Josh and I," she ran a hand through her bangs. "Josh and I are toxic together. And we're venomous when we talk about each other. I'd get drunk off a little booze with Josh and we'd make anybody die laughing. I'd get high off a little weed with Josh, and we'd have everybody's eyes rolling. Then came the crystal…" she stopped to pick at her nails and didn't look up for the rest of the story. "My mother had a little house warming party last night: she just moved. Josh came back from tour that morning and thought he'd say hey to the guys. My guys. They were _my _guys now and I told him so. He was all like _'Oh please, Mi. You were just tha seat-filler. They don't need you and they don't like you.'_"

I stifled a chuckle at her big, burly man impression.

"I said _'Yes, they do. You left them for the band. __I'm__ the fifth. So shut the hell up and don't eff-in' talk to them.'_ Little did I know I just wanted him away so I could keep getting fixes. I liked it all. The smoking, the dope, the sh*t on my tongue. It was awesome and I didn't want him to take it from me. It wasn't his anymore. So we went over to Scott and Hanna's, the both of us. And they let us both in. And Hanna, being the _mastermind_, said we should have a smoke-off. Whoever passes out first has to get the f*ck out."

I blinked. How did she look so good using that much? "Smoke-off? Really?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know we were too old for that. I mean a smoke-off at 19? Geez…I'm so embarrassed." Miley put her head in her hands. In a moment, she rose again and started playing with the best swan once more. "We emptied some bulbs and poured some meth and weed in, heated the crap up and smoked and smoked and smoked. Neither of us passed out so we just went to my mother's, baked as f*ck. Baked. As. F*ck."

"You got kicked out?"

"Mm-Hmn," she said, "We walked there and we walked back. And the whole time I reprimanded him for ever bringing those scums into our lives. My whole family hates me. He told me I was a dumb hick and I should walk home by myself and not end up at his home at all. I said okay and walked and that's when you saw me. You thought I was sick with Hypa-meh-blehck…" She looked up at me at last and said, "But I was just trashed. And I'm sure the doctor knew."

_That would explain a lot_.

"I'm sorry, Nick."

I had to say, I was surprised I'd developed an obsession with a drug-user. However I knew I was too far to in leave her. I had let her in twice in just six hours. I'd be classless if I left her at this time of night. "It's alright." I said. I did about nine more sentences in Miley's silence before picking the laptop off the table and put everything in the bag. "Let's go."

I tossed my cup in the trash – as well as her empty snack bag and the ugly ducklings – and headed for the door with my bag on my shoulder. I was almost out when I realized Miley wasn't following. I turned. "Miley."

She was still at the table, looking down into it. Her lips were pursed, her eyes were blank and fingers twitched when she shook her head. "You go."

"And leave you? Nu-uh." I said to her, going back to the table. I placed my hands down on it in front of Miley's eyes. "Crazy stuff happens here at this time."

She gazed up again and chocolate met cyan. She laughed, "Like what?"

I decided to play and it turned out well.

"See that guy over there?" I asked, raising my chin to an old man with big gold specs. Miley nodded. I told her the man watches people our age and then puts up love notes for them on Craig's List, hoping they'll find the webpage sometime. She gasped a tiny gasp and he looked our way by coincidence. The man smiled at Miley. Perfect…and creepy.

Miley put a hand to the side of her face, hiding, and twisted away. Giggling, she said we could go now.


	6. Chapter Five

I grunted at the man in the mirror. He looked twenty-eight. "This is why old people nap." I said to him, smacking myself in the face to make him look alive. It was six A.M and after three hours and eighteen minutes of sleep, I looked haunting. The _Zombie d'Harvard_ my brother Joe would call me when I was tired in the morning after writing an essay, or rehearsing a seminar, or after a breakup.

"Will he eat the professor? Will he crush the west wing? Nobody knoooowws. Ooowwhoo." The day would begin.

Though what did he know about university or being tired? He had no formal education. He jim-squeezed his way out of the high school with an average no higher than sixty-seven, insisting Dad wouldn't have to worry; he and Antoinette Fletching would run off and be famous photographers and live off love. And that is exactly what they did. Joe, at 18, and Antoinette, 22, grabbed their passports and portfolios (jammed with pictures of each other, lawn chairs and grass blades) and flew off to meet a friend who knew somebody who knew somebody. They stayed in South America for a bit, and then off to London, and then Australia, scoring small gigs for Latina, English and Aussie indie musicians. A trip to the Philippines held a huge engagement for the 19-year-old, who put the ring in his boxers before foreplay and set up a camera by the bed.

"Okay, Captain, time to set sail." We heard her say sexily. Her voice was naturally raspy, her hair always slightly tousled, her skin olive and her eyes an easy brown. But no matter how she twisted, how she cooed, how she pouted her plump lips, I didn't find her beautiful. I'd find her in a wet-dream next to Miley Stewart, but not anywhere on my beautiful list.

"Aye, aye, baby." said a smirking Joe.

"M-hm-hm, Arrgh…Wha—…I…Joe…?"

"I love you," He said, "and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you—"

She was caught speechless. "Joe…Joe, baby, you're nineteen."

"And the grass is green, and the sky is blue. Marry me!" He insisted.

Watching the tape, the family and I observed Joe reach down and grab the ring off the floor, bare-naked.

"Ahhh!"

"Ew!"

"Gross!"

"Jo-seph!"

"Hahaha. Niiicee." Rang all over the room.

He asked Antoinette to marry him, letting the fragile part of him show by misfortune. You could tell he'd wanted to be manly for her. He always had. But then, his hands shook, his eyes were wide and his lips trembled. Scared.

She laughed and cried and said, "Yes, Joseph, I will marry you." They hugged and Joe did a victorious fist pump for the camera. Antoinette complained about being filmed during sex in a "wah wah wah wahwahwah wah" kind of way in my ears and Joe shut the camera down.

That was close to four years ago. They haven't been wed. Antoinette wants a beachy wedding, Joe wants a traditional wedding. She wants it small, he wants it big. She wants Fiji, he wants Jersey. "Jantoinette", as their co-workers call them, agree to disagree all the time. If the sex wasn't so great they would've split years ago. And if my father wasn't a successful business owner, she wouldn't have given him the time of day.

Okay, let me explain myself:

I _hate_ Antoinette Fletching. No, she is not stupid, she is not a gold-digger, she is not a cheater…and I hate her for those exact reasons. She is perfect: smart, sexy, caring. Her only flaw is her obsession with my brother. The second he asked her out, that was it. Nobody mattered because they were a couple. They were one. They met my freshman year of high school and I needed my brother, the senior. He _promised_ to be around and he wasn't. Now I know, no senior under this sun wants to help their baby brother at school, but he say what other people thought didn't matter. The second he got involved with Antoinette (homecoming dance that October) he changed. He joined her group. The artists. The "If You Think of It While You're Hiiiiiiiiiiigh, Duuuuuuuudee, It's F*ckin' Artsy!" circle. No, he never got busted for pot, and he's not dependant on it. It's just the fact Antoinette got him to do it. He never wanted to be a photographer before he met her. He was going into architecture. He was my role model after I grew big and realized Daddy wasn't gonna cut it. I mean there's Kevin but he moved out when I was 13; moved to New Hampshire with his now-wife, Danielle, a waitress. I vaguely remember the fight he and Grandpa had before he left.

See, it's like monarchy in my family. It's like monarchy in this town. Sons of bosses marry daughters of bosses and if you screwed that up, you may as well move out of town. My family, my immediate family, views things differently. They'd like four daughter-in-laws that are sweet, fertile, and educated. This, and the engagement, I always keep in mind.

But it is a shame Kev's embarrassment got the best of him.

"Classy, intelligent and _ready_." I told myself like everyday, straightening out my Thursday golf polo this time. My eye caught something in the window behind my dresser. A robin. It had quit raining last night, but its wings were still damp. The sun wasn't fully raised yet so I figured that was the reason.

I whistled to it nice and sharp and a voice interrupted the moment.

"Nicky?"

_Frankie._ I turned. "What are you doing up? You've still got an hour, bro."

He huffed. "I heard you were up. I wanna eat breakfast with you." He admitted shyly, shuffling his feet.

I couldn't help but smile despite the fact my original plans to have breakfast alone with Miley were wrecked. Frankie was just too cute for ten. "Okay, Shankie, but…do you mind if someone else eats with us?"

"Mommy got mad when I tried to wake her. Says she's tired." His heart broke a little.

"No, no, Frankie, not mommy and not daddy." I told him. "See," I let voice go to a whisper, "I have a _girl_ here."

He gasped as if I'd shot a kitten just then.

"Yeah, I know."

"Where is she? Girls usually sleep with you."

I paused and went red in the face. "That was _one_ girl, _one_ time. And nothing happened." I went warmer saying that, embarrassed it was true.

Sam. We dated six months at the end of high school. Sixth month was prom, and it was tradition you slept with whoever left with you. I was up for it up until we were up against the door on the inside of this room, awkwardly avoiding one another's tongue. She put her hands on the waist of my pants and I stopped her. I told her I wasn't ready. She thanked God and that night we just lied in bed, watching a movie about a country girl stripped her double-life as a secret pop star.

"She's in the guestroom. Listen, she's homeless and needed a place to stay. I met her yesterday." I explained. "Her name's Miley and you ought to be polite okay?"

The boy nodded vigorously. "Promise. …Whoa, cool bird."

"It's a robin. You can sing to it while I wake Miley."

- x.0.x -

"Are you an orphan?"

"Frankie!"

Miley laughed, raspy from the early hour. "It's okay." She said, "No, I'm not an orphan." She looked down. "Sometimes people my age do things. Not so great things…that cause grown-ups to get mad. And sometimes when those grown-ups get mad, you have to go away from them and go somewhere else."

"So, Nicky, like Kevin, right?"

"Frankie!"

"What?"

"Okay. Yeah sure, like Kevin."

"Who's Kevin?"

"My brother. There are two other ones, 21 and 23." I said, scrambling the eggs harder.

"Hm," said Miley. "Alright, four boys. Cool."

"Don't count on meeting the other two." I shared out the scrambled eggs and ham on two plates and put eight pieces of toast on a separate plate. I grabbed the butter stick, jam and honey jars and set them all on the table.

"Yum," I heard Frankie.

"Thank you." Miley.

"You're welcome." I looked at my watch and grabbed some mayonnaise. I snatched up two pieces of toast and covered them in mayo. I poured the rest of the eggs onto the bread and slapped some ham on top. I made me a sandwich. "It's 6:45, I gotta go."

Miley had a frown growing and asked where.

"School." I answered. "Harvard. I'll be home by four."

The frown remained. "Oh. Well…what am I supposed to do all day then?"

"Oh," I was surprised she'd expected to spend the day with me. We had met almost 12 hours ago, spending 9 of those hours apart. "Make yourself at home then, Miley. Dad's already gone and my mother's far from scary."

"I beg to differ." countered Franklin with a mouth full of eggs.

Smiling amusedly, I shook my head and picked up my backpack. I gave Frankie a kiss on his hair, which he hated and shook his head of cooties immediately after. "Have a good day, Frank."

"'Kay,"

"Be good."

"M'hm,"

"And work hard."

"O_kaay_."

I was off into the hallway when I 'remembered'. "Goodbye, Miley." I called, not turning to seem less interested.

"Goodbye, Mr. Ivy League Big Shot."

- x.0.x -

My best friend turned their head to me. "Pretty weather we're having." She brought.

Ah, Demi. It was always nice with her around. On Thursdays we'd lye in the grass at lunch hour, under the same big oak tree, just feeling fine. Not thinking, not working. Sometimes we didn't even speak. Sometimes I forgot what earth was. Sometimes we'd talk about hilarious things and I'd forget what oxygen was. And sometimes, when Demi felt fine enough to sing, I fell asleep. But today there was nothing we felt compelled to say, so we laid together, as always, heads side-by-side, my body north, hers south, in almost silence.

"I agree." I said, not feeling the smile on my face. All I could think about was last night. I wanted to say something, but it was too soon.

Demi quickly propped herself up on her elbows. "Who is she?"

"Who is who?" _Don't blush. Whatever you do, don't—Damn!_

Demi got up on her hands and knees and crawled over me so we were face to face. Her big brown eyes were so zealous it was almost heartbreaking. I could never hurt the soul in there and could only wonder why her boyfriends had. I wasn't attracted to Demi, but it was closest I've been to loving a girl.

"The girl you are too obviously thinking about." She said.

Mmhm. She knew me well. She and I have known each other since we were 14. Freshman year of high school in same math class. She came to my rescue when I was lost looking for the auditorium, and I came to her rescue (alongside Joe) and when her boyfriend, Cody, tried to kiss her without consent. We….okay _just_ Joe—threatened Cody with unrepeatable words.

Cody never walked Demi's way again.

Five months of gratitude and being subtle as a knife gazing at him lead to Joe finally going out with her (of course, behind Antoinette's back.) Eleven weeks passed and it was over; Joe was off to South America with Antoinette and Demi—although rich—couldn't come. He promised he'd come back for her and assured her Miss. Fletching was just his agent. That night at 1:27, Demi had returned, this time to cry into me and I let her down as easy as I could. "Demi, he was cheating the entire time." was the easiest I could. Ever since then she confided in me because I didn't try to save face.

I sighed. _Oh, this friendship._ "Her name's Miley."

"Miley?"

"Yes, I met her last night. I got a haircut at Missee's and I saw her walking down the street…."

I told the whole story…except for the beer part…and the breasts part…and the part about crystal and the erotic one-shot.

"Dude, that's like…kidnappery."

"Kidnapping, Demi."

"Ugh, whatever. It's sexy and great start to a romance."

"Romance?" I echoed, going hot in the face again.

Demi crawled off of me. "Well yeah. She obviously likes you. And you? Well, you're obsessed."

"I am _not_!" I opposed.

"Are so! You look like a vampire. Who knows _what_ ya'll were up to last night."

"Demetria!" my face burned and burned that second. "Not true."

She laughed amused. "Not _yet_."

"Not _ever_."

She paused and I paused and world around us paused for a second.

"You mean…you're not gonna…lose _it_?" she asked, bobbing her head to 'lose it'. She had lost it years ago to another boyfriend. He had told everyone. Demi spent the rest of high school being called Haskarth's Hymen. And that's what you get when you sleep with captain of the football team, Alec Haskarth.

I shook my head and mouthed no. She understood. She didn't agree, I mean, we were almost 20 and I was a virgin, but she understood.

"So what are you gonna do with her?"

I told I'd give Miley her options: stay, go, maybe I could drive her back and forth from where she lived. We could spend the weekends together.

Whatever happened she wasn't going to forget me. We…whatever _we_ were, wasn't going to end. Not so soon.

"Awww," Demi crooned. "You're in love!"

"No I'm not, Dd."

"Yes you are."

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyyy! Demiii!" came a voice. Deep, happy and wanting. I knew it well as I knew my own.

"Hey, babe-eey!"

Meet Demi's new squeeze: Knight Dylan. Blond, tall, blue eyes, extremely chiseled jaw. He went over to Demi, sucked her face from her skull a minute and ruffled her dark hair. "You're so beautiful. Have I told you? Have I told you you're so beautiful?"

"Yes," slipped from my mouth. I shut quick as I opened it.

Knight gave me a look. "Dude, was I talking to you—?"

"Baby, baby, baby, whoa. Whoa." Demi tamed her animal, "Slow down."

Knight was like a bull. He crept lower to Demi and took a deep breath. Nuzzled into the crook of her neck comfortably, he grunted in apology. They were what they were: a bull and a wolf-cub.

"I love you."

They could go head-to-head if necessary, but the bull was bigger and always had dominance in the end. From time to time though, the bull would find the cub so cute he'd lay his amour down and just let her treat him right. Couples like Knight and Demi you don't see often.

"Love you, too, D."

_Yick! _I shot up from the ground. "I'm gonna go, let ya'll have your love fest."

"No. Stay." Demi butt in, reaching her free arm out.

I looked at Demi. And then at Knight. I shook my head. "No thanks."

- x. 0. x -

_Srry about lunch. Knight wanted to talk._ -**Dd**

_Nbd. Srly. …So what was it? -_**Nicholas**

_I'll show u. :) Come 2 my dorm. - _**Dd**

_Is HE there? - _**Nicholas**

_NO! just come, nick! -_**Dd **

This was followed by 5 more messages arguing my distaste of Knight. And you're probably wondering: Why does Nick hate everybody? I don't hate everybody, I just don't trust people. And now you're probably thinking: then why did you let a female drug-addicted stranger into your home with your younger brother? That I can explain. Miley Stewart is a female. She's a girl. Girls are more honest than guys. Girls tend to keep their promises. Girls are more attractive physically…and physiologically. I can trust a girl. Men, on the other hand, are a letdown.

I trusted Demi and went up. She was sitting at a round table and I felt a pang of déjà vu. Just 12 hours ago this was Starbucks.

"Nick!" she called.

"Shh," I sat. "Hey, what's up?"

A smile was plastered on her face. Her signature smile. Something was great. "You know the May Quinton Music Festival?"

Did I ever? I'd dreamed about going for years. I was always "too young" or "too busy" or just plain too scared to go. I answered with a yeah and left it at that. She knew.

"You know how you and I always wanted to goooo?" Her smile grew wider.

Oh yeah...she knew.

"No way."

"Yeah way!" she pulled three tickets out of her pocket. "You, me, Miley…and Knight already has his ticket."

"What?" I was shocked. "Miley?" I was baffled. "You got your _boyfriend_ to get a _houseguest_ a ticket to MQ? He doesn't even like me."

"Oh, hush." She snapped, flicking her wrist. "I told him Miley was a friend of mine. I wasn't gonna go without you and you're not gonna go without Miley."

I stared at her helplessly. "I don't even know if Miley'll still be around next month. She's got a family to get back to. I can't just '_keep her'_ till June. It's kidnappery, remember?"

"Puh-lease. Just kiss her."

"What?"

"Kiss her. K.I.S.S her. Kiss her," she instructed, flipping out her left hand. "and she'll stay." She finished, flipping out her right.

"It hasn't even been 24 hours since we met. I'm not going to kiss her." I argued.

"Well you better soon. You need a girlfriend and a need best friend who doesn't _fall asleep_ when I rehearse my pieces."

I said nicely in defence, "You sing like an angel, Miss Demi. I do not sleep, I simply drift into Utopia."

She snorted. "Yeah. Hey, I gotta go pick up some sheet music. You coming?"

"Where's Knight?"

"The study. You coming?"

I nodded and we interlocked arms walking off, just like always.

"_And I/You know my mind's made up this time/There's no goin' back to find/_

_What we had..."_

Singing rang through my ears, echoing through the music hall.

"_And I know…"_

"She's pitchy," was the first thing Demi had said.

"She's good." I countered.

"_...There's no wrong and there's no right/So enough/  
>I'm giving you up."<em>

"Her vibrato's crap," was the second thing Demi had said.

"Demi, come on. She's not bad."

"Neither are you, but I don't see you in the music hall."

The girl continued at a lower volume. It was like she heard us but she didn't. I was trying to focus but Demi's heels were nuts. Their clicks drown everything out. I had stopped thinking.

We got to the door of the hall and Demi jiggled the knob.

"This b-tch locked the door." Demi stated, struck. "Who does she think she is?"

"D,"

She was hunting for the keys. She had a copy. Her mom was on the administrative team. It was the only reason she'd gotten into Harvard. Yes, Demi was a fabulous singer and pianist, but the school had already reached its 6,600 student limit. Her mother wanted her with me for good influence. Also, you couldn't put Demi and. College in the same sentence. She was meant to be somebody, and not because of her mom.

"Hey b-tch! Quit the neighing!" Demi barged in with her courtyard-voice.

The girl turned, acoustic guitar in hand. Her purple strapless sundress went _whoosh_ing with her hair and body.

"_Miley_?" I gaped.

Demi looked to me, my surprise in her. "Wa-wa-wait…" She pointed to Miley Stewart. "You're Miley?"

She nodded, eyes on me. "And you arrreee?" she looked at Demi.

"Demetria Munro. Pleasure."

"Mmm, not really." she said coldly.

Demi hopped up a bit. "I'm sorry for the neighing bit. It's just…I don't like when people are pitchy as sh-t. It's a…pet-peeve. You see, I'm in the musical arts prog—"

"I know," said Miley, leaning for the table and picking up sheets. "I believe these are yours. Kinda knew you'd be coming around." Miley gave them away.

"I didn't _you'd_ be coming around." I stated, trying to give Miley an annoyed face. I crossed my arms for effect. "How'd you get here and how long have you been hangin' around?

She looked at me like I was a nagging parent. She did a much better at appearing annoyed. "I took the bus and I've been here 'bout an hour. …I got bored."

Demi let out a cough I swore "She missed you!" came out with it.

I glared through Demi's face. "Demi…Out." I ordered, throwing a thumb towards the door.

She threw her hands up and exited the hall. Her presence was gone when clicking was. Miley and I waited.

She turned my way when it was over. "Are you mad?"

"No," I splurted. "God no. I shouldn't have left you by yourself."

She raised her arms and let them fall to her sides. "Well you couldn't take me to class."

Miley sat herself up on a stool and breathed. I did the same after a minute of pacing.

"Nick?" Miley asked softly over the silence. It was so nice to just sit alone with her. Without anything going on; just loving her existence and her loving mine. This…this was paradise. And I could've sat on that stool with my arm around her forever.

"Nick."

"Yeah?" I responded.

"Mm," she said and stopped for a long moment. "I stole this dress."

"From where?" I asked, rubbing her shoulder to hide my anxiety. _Please don't say a store._ _Please don't say a store._

She shrugged. "Some girl's bag."

"What?" I moved away in shock.

"Chill." She recommended and explained, "She had one of those big flat things from Apple. She can buy herself another sundress."

I nodded slowly, taking in what I'd heard.

There went the moment.

"Come onnnnnn." Miley droned after 5 seconds of staring at my perplexed face. She gave me two light slaps on the cheek. "Smile."

I did. The smallest, awkwardest, and only one in me.

She laughed. "You're really cute."

Before I knew it her lips were on my cheek, kissing the red spot on which I'd been ever so lightly slapped.

And there it was again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Lack of Niley. Lots of stasis. I apologize. Review ****anyway?**


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: Tried my best to make this chapter chill. I am incapable.**

* * *

><p>"Ahahahaha! And that's…and that's when she's like—hahaha—that's when she, she says '<em>We'll f**king kill ya maaann!<em>'"

We were at the mall. Demi finished telling her story and doubled over alongside Miley and a faking Knight. I stood still. I was there at the concert and I'd heard Demi retell all the hilarious things the singer said a million times. I didn't get the appeal and I still don't see how breaking a girl's heart is the equivalent of drowning a kitten. It was much, much worse.

Plus, it was Saturday and I don't _do_ the mall. But it was a nice day; the rain had dried up nicely, and the leftover droplets made for great prisms along the mall's dome sunroof. As the sun's ray passed through the raindrops, lengthy, narrow rainbows appeared for our eyes. Dim spectrums like cage bars ahead of us.

We all were animals this time, not just Knight and D. Hopped up on orange soda and pretzels, we were wild; the loudest people in the area. I hooted at Demi snarky comments at a soccer player's uni-brow and Demi just _slayed_ Miley all day. This was what Demi had wanted. After they got off on the wrong foot, she was determined to make Miley like her…and it was working.

After various _'Aahh…whew!' _s we were on our way again. Beyond us, past the rainbows, was the fountain, and by chance, we all paused to stare. Now, we truly felt like animals, like we couldn't go further than the colour cage and there…there was our lake…with plastic palm trees surrounding in pots and benches and booths.

"Hey," said Demi first, softly. "I bet I can toss a penny in there behind my back _with_ my eyes closed, and it'll go in tails."

"Heads," opposed Knight, ready to challenge his girlfriend any given moment. His smile was sly.

My friend let a snort out. "Alright, babe," Demi grabbed his hand and bust him past the bars and to the fountain. The bull and the wolf cub: a brave pair.

Like a silent film, Miley and I, meters apart from each other, watched Knight and Demi pull out a penny. We watched Knight stand in front of Demi—her back turned to the fountain. He covered her eyes with one hand, leaving the other free to dangle while he observed the stunt. Demi threw the coin into the fountain and Knight immediately looked over, throwing a hand against Demi's chest so he could see first. Vivid expressions from a leaning Demi let us know it was tails.

Knight pretending to not know she'd seen, dunked his hand into the water to flip it. Demi pushed him. Her head was thrown back in laughter. The look was amusement was gone when Knight splashed water on her white V-neck. It was on.

- x. 0. x -

"Middle name?" Miley asked.

"Jeremiah." I answered. "Yours?"

"Hope…Rai."

"_Hopray_?"

"Nooo," she laughed. "Hope-Rai. Two names. I was born Destiny Hope-Rai Stewart. My daddy called me Smiley because I _was_ smiley and, well, the S came out with my two front teeth. I walked right into school the first day said 'Hewhoa eveweeboday, I'm Miwee!' ...And it just stuck."

I chuckled.

Miley and I were watching the mall alone. Knight and Demi we'd lost ages ago at the fountain. They'd be awhile.

I was bag-less; I hadn't bought a single thing. Miley had two bags: one with hygiene things and the other with shirts and shorts and trackies. She wore some of her choices now: a striped baby blue midriff with bright white short-shorts. I was a very happy camper.

"Favourite movie?" I asked.

We were getting to know each other.

"The Runaways."

"Ah,"

"The irony?"

"Yes."

"Ahaha! Yours?"

"H'um…Alexis Texas…the movie."

She laughed pretty hard. "Ahhh,"

"The irony?" I joked.

"Yes." She kid.

We sat on a bench in silence, listening to 3 different songs at once for a minute or two.

"Your parents. What do they do?" Miley questioned suddenly.

I scratched my head, wondering what they were doing just then. "My dad own a private business in New York…My mom used to work with him, but…it didn't go well."

"Wh—?"

"Yours?"

"_Why_?" she tried again, this time sterner. "You made me spill about Josh. It's only fair."

I groaned. I didn't want to. The only person who knew anything was Demi and I was planning to have it stay that way. "We already talked about this. You already know."

"What?—…Oh." Miley clued in, "Riiight. The drinking."

"Mh," I nodded. I could feel my heart sinking. Too many bad memories: the fighting, slamming doors, the _clik-siss_every half hour, Frankie sleeping in my bed tearful. I wanted to shut my brain off.

Miley did just that when she got up. "Ooh, this is my _song_." She drawled in that sexy southern accent of hers. Light and easy.

I rolled my eyes. "No it's not." I'd said. I knew she was just trying to get my mind off my father.

She stood in front of me and took my hands, annoyed and amused. "Take an invitation to dance, will you?"

Damn, that smile was too good. I stood up and Miley, with a hand still on one of mine, danced our way over to the urban clothing store playing the song.

We got there just in time. Miley dropped her bags on a bench and ran me in for the hook.

"What are all of you doing!" Miley shouted, pulling me up against her behind.

The whole store came to a halt.

"You know you wanna dance!" she yelled, "You know it!"

I, embarrassed, dug my head into her shoulder. "Mi-leyy." I muttered.

I felt her neck twist my way. "That's the spirit." She laughed. Her neck twisted away and she droved us to the centre of the room.

_No._

"1…2…"

_Nooo._

"1, 2, 3, 4!"

And that's when Miley's backside started grinding itself into me.

I still have no words. No. Words. Just "Mmhhr."

I looked up and the entire room was dancing to the electro beat. Once positive no one was watching I started to return Miley's favour. She giggled at this and kept moving at different paces with the beat. I spun her around (to avoid a surprise that would force me to buy pants from this place) and the two of us tangoed for a bit. Salsas gave us a couple laughs and my dips during the waltz weren't enough for her tall figure. Seeing her dance made me realize she had the legs of a gazelle. The girl was tall without heels. She was fit and flexible, too. Fantasy worthy girl with a good heart and bubbly personality…just what Demi wanted for me.

Speaking of Demi….

"Heeeyyy!" came the voices from the front of us. "What's going _on_ in _here_?"

"Oh," Miley popped and the song faded into the next. "nothing. Just dancing." She turned to face Knight.

Demi raised my eyebrows in my direction. "Yeah. Ya'll were dancin' alright." She mused.

I shot at Demi, telling her to shut up through my eyes. "Don't you have something to buy?"

"Nope. We're done for the day, right, baby?"

"Yes, Knight," D kissed him. "Ya'll done?" she asked Miley.

Miley nodded and held her bags up. The store, now bored with us, went back to its usual bland buzz like nothing ever happened.

"Alright, let's go." said Demi. We started to leave and Demi began a convo with Miley. "You know, the stunt you pulled here was awesome. I'll love to invite you over next Friday. Ha, the way you were on Nick…you seem like a real party animal." She gushed.

"You don't know the half of it." Miley muttered and we both went red.

Demi gave Miley a tiny, playful push. "Oh, please. You guys so like each other. I don't get how you're sleeping over and not ending up in the same bed."

"Demi!"

"Wait," Knight stopped us. "What's she doing at Lucas' house? I thought Miley was _your_ friend."

Demi shuffled a bit, ruffling her own hair in discomfort.

_Busted._

"Well, uhhh…it's a…_favour_. See, Nick and I got our hair cut at Missie's and we saw Miley. She, uh, ran away from home, and since I'm living on campus…sometimes, Miley is staying at Nick's."

"Hmm, interesting." said Knight, chewing it over, eyeing Miley over Demi.

I clapped my hands to cut the tension. "Okay! That's enough chatter. To the parking lot, shall we?"

"Yes, to the parking lot." Demi echoed. She stole Knight's hands and walked ahead of us.

At the underground lot, Knight and D parted ways with Miley and I and again we were left alone. You'd think it would be more awkward than ever after what we did in the store. It wasn't.

"You can dance." Miley told me. "I didn't think you would."

I grabbed her bags for her. "Neither did I." I admitted.

She chuckled to herself quietly and took one of her bags back. The one with the toiletries. She switched the bag for the right hand and used her left to hold my hand.

We were holding hands. Miley Stewart and I were holding hands as we walked.

_We're holding hands._ I checked in. My palms started to sweat.

"You nervous?"

All I could do was nod…..and blush.

She nodded well in response and let go of my hand. She laced her pinky in mine instead.

- x. 0. x -

"_Hey, guys. It is 9:04 on a warm Saturday night, I am Amy and this is The Luna Circuit: your faves counted down when the moooonnn comes up." _

Soft lulling music hummed from my noticeably aging radio. Having four stations available and two of them static-full, it was easy to choose. Recent songs crafted for the 80's was all I got and over the years I'd grown an appreciation for it. Places like the mall were missing out.

Or maybe we were even, because the sound of Luna Circuit drew Miley Stewart into my room while I was in the shower. I came back to find her lying on my bed, her legs curled up, looking around.

She wore a white ripped tank top that looked a whole lot like mine and dark lace panties.

"You think 'cause we held pinkies you can watch me get dressed?" I asked playfully. Joking became comfortable. It was a way to avoid—and disguise—my liking of her.

She snorted in reply. "You're not even naked." She said.

True. I unwrapped my blue towel and stood in my shorts. "How'd you know?" I spoke my thoughts.

She cocked her head to the side and said, "You seem like one of those guys. Never naked more than 20 minutes, sleep in your over-shorts, tightie whities on Sundays."

"You know nothing," I retorted, sub-conscientiously pulling t-shirts over my white briefs before shutting the drawer with a tank.

"M'hm."

I put the shirt on.

Miley sighed, masked in thought. "You know, …when people say the apples don't fall too far from the tree?"

"Yeah," I said, settling down by her feet and leaning against the wall. I was nothing but ears.

"Do you believe that?" she asked, honestly.

"Well," I curled up, too. "You can't escape genetics." I said.

"I know, I know. It's just…I had fun today."

My eyes frowned and my mouth smiled. _What?_

"I learned so much about you in one day."

_It's been eleven._

Miley looked down at her hands and when my eyes followed hers, I found her playing with a shiny band on her fourth finger. A ring. How could I have missed it all this time?

I separated my lips to ask but she cut in, unaware, spewing things she'd learned.

"Your favourite colour's blue, your favourite song is by your favourite band: Secrets by FreeIVMadison. You got your hair straightened at eleven, you learned to play guitar at 12 and piano at six. You played baseball all through high school, you're diabetic, you spread peanut butter on the bare side of a split Oreo cookie, you love David Schwimmer and only _Lord_ knows why—"

"What's that gotta do with your question? You know, about the apples?"

"You know nothing about me."

"Yes, I do. You were born Destiny Hope-Rai, you like purple and black, and red. You love Joan Jett, you got your belly button pierced on your 16th birthday and on that day you smoked for the first time. And you coughed and you coughed and you coughed 'till your mom sent you upstairs in the middle of your party, thinking you had SARS…"

I stopped myself to think of something nice.

"Uhm, you like to sing. You write songs. You performed at your school talent show and won third place out of fifteen. You favourite book's Dear John by Nicholas Sparks…You see, I know plenty."

She nodded.

"You just make me talk more than you." I said, reaching over and pinching her thigh.

"Ah!" she let out a shriek and laughed, filching her legs away. "Nick,"

"Tell me." I ordered.

"What?"

"About the apples. What does us creeping each other have to do with apples falling far from the tree?"

The girl sighed again and rolled on her back. She stared into the ceiling for a minute and then got off the bed.

"Never mind it yet. Goodnight, Nick," she said and headed to the door.


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Sorry. I had to. I wrote this first and then changed it and the revised one was killing me. You know when they say "Less is More"? They're LYING.**

**I hope you enjoy the new...old...version of Chapter Seven. :}**

* * *

><p>The girl sighed again and rolled on her back. She stared into the ceiling for a minute and then got off the bed.<p>

"Never mind it yet. Goodnight, Nick," she said and headed to the door.

**x.0.x**

I got up, too. And I headed to her exit faster. For the last eight days we've kissed each other goodnight and goodbye. She'd kiss my chin while I kissed her forehead. We'd smile bashfully afterwards and go about our separate ways down the hall (or the driveway when I was leaving for school). It was a…gratitude thing. And that meant no lip kissing. There is no lip kissing in "Thank you for staying, have a nice day" and "Thank you for the room, have a nice day". Lip kissing is for boyfriends and girlfriends, that of which we were not…

Yet.

Miley stopped at the door I stood in front of and let me kiss her.

"It's amazing how you hop, skip and jump to kiss me, but we can't hold hands." She spoke very softly. I didn't think her personality was capable of such quiet.

She backed away without a kiss in a return. She said, "I guess it's better this way", manoeuvred passed me and left with glassy eyes.

The door shut and my mind was boggled around nothing. Miley hadn't kissed or hugged me, so there was no basis for fantasies and nothing to leave me satisfied for the night ahead.

That made my mind boggle around everything else. The ring, the sudden lack of opening up, the fact my mother and I hadn't talked since Dad visited. [I was always gone before she woke and vise-versa at times. That and sneaking Miley into the house everyday (yeah, I wasn't quite ready to drop the bomb yet.)]

My mind was stuffed with so many other things that weren't Miley's lips, I couldn't sleep. So I lied awake in the dark. And that night, my mother wasn't the only one crying.

- x. 0. x -

**Nicholas** – _Can I know now?_

**Mi – **_What?_

**Nicholas** _– '-_-_

I saw her head rise from the corner of my eye and she looked at me with a hopeless smile. I didn't look back. I was embarrassed for prying. Besides, we weren't to be texting during the service…or any part of church for that matter. May I use the excuse "But Demi and Knight are doing it"?

**Mi –** _Nick…_

You may counter with "If Demi and Knight jumped off a bridge, would you do it?" My answer: Possibly. I mean, we go as far as to go to church without our parents three Sundays of the month. Demi can't live without Sir Dylan and I can't live with her. So yes, Miley and I can text because we'd all meet our maker in the same Knight-Demi-Miley-Nick formation we'd been in the past two weeks.

**Mi – **_Nick Im not gonna tell u in a txt_

**Nicholas –**_Y? are you w/ the government?_

"…but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down…."

**Mi – **_No! y do u care so much?_

**DAD – **_Nick, where are you?_

I rolled my eyes. Now…of all times? What the hell did he want?

**Nicholas –**_ At church. What do you want?_

**DAD – **_Church? Didn't I tell you NOT to go to there?_

**DAD – **_Are you with that little skank?_

**Nicholas –**_ Dad, I'm 18. You can't tell me where not to go._

I refused to argue with my father on Demi. We had too many times.

**Mi **_**– **__Who r u txtn?_

**DAD – **_Damn that stupid mother of yours. I knew once I left she'd start sending you to the holy home of brainwashers. _

I began hissing and mouthing curses behind my breath. God, this man was something.

**DAD –**_i knbew it. Now I need yiu to do something for mne._

"Shit," I whispered. He was drunk. I sighed, feeling my companies' eyes on me.

**Nicholas –**_ What_

**DAD –**_ leave the door ioeb when you get jone, Imn ub a nerrybf._

A meeting, huh?

**Nicholas –**_ A meeting at 10 AM on a Sunday? …With drinks? Dad, what are you doing? Really?_

I didn't really want the answer. I considered Vegas for gambling, or perhaps some a headquarters out west to find out if Kevin and Danielle were producing some breed of rich-loser.

But the answer lived simple in 30 KB. He sent me a photo of him and his co-workers. Two men and three women, all with their shirts undone, sipping on alcohol with a lime slices hooked to the edge their glasses. My dad held his thumb up and the other hand held the camera phone up to catch each of their zany faces. They were not in the office. They were in a hotel suite.

Miley leaned over to me. I guess my anger was apparent. "What's wrong?" she'd asked, growing concerned.

My fingers smashed the keys:

_Im not going to help you sneak in._

"Dad," I whispered to Miley. She nodded understandingly.

I heard Demetria's voice. "Uh, Nick," She knew. "You're looking a little red…Do you need to go _outside_ for a minute?"

I shook my head, even though if there was one thing my father and I had in common, it would be that we were vicious when angered. Violent, ruthless, no-mercy-like men.

Miley's hand was on my back, moving in small circles. She was focused back on the preacher though.

Her massage did nothing for my rage. It just grew, message after relentless message.

**DAD – **_F#CK! I knew we shiykd have stopped after Kevin. 1 disobedient rugrat's ewnough. _

**DAD – **_And dsid uy think im f#ckin stupuid? I know aboyut the bitch you got the guestroom. damn, when I gets mey hands on that Demi for introdsucing you to her. Shes gonna wish her sl#t of e mother used a vcondom with her dad. Then im going to fick you're a$s up and f#ck your mom's as$ up for being dumb a$s b!tches. _

**DAD **— _that stupud c#nt. I hate her! What an ugly rodent faced hoe she is. Sad as sh-t you look just klie her Sad as sh-t you act just like her. Sad as sh-t im in f#cking cahoots with yall. I hate yall_

"JUST SHUT UP!" I screamed.

"SHUT UP!"

"SHUT UP!"

"SHUT _**UP**_!"

The deep smog of fury faded out in a few seconds, and my surroundings became clear. Shocked, disturbed Christian people and an empty-faced preacher. I had had a meltdown in the church. I was so, so angry and nobody understood. Nobody knew anything concrete at all. But they stared with sympathy. "Poor child" they said without language. "Poor child."

I looked at the one expressionless person in the eyes, searing red fury. Damn, that preacher. That preacher who depended on everyone else to supply support. I didn't want vacant hazel eyes, I wanted a hug. Damn that preacher and Miley stormed me out of there. Demi rose to follow in the dust, but Knight pulled her down.

Out the double arched doors of the church, I stomped through the parking lot, looking for something to strike; drive my fist into and wreck. All I saw in candidate was my Mercedes. I jammed myself between it and a minivan and was about to throw my fist at the driver's door.

"My mom's a cheater!" Miley came at me and I stopped in my tracks.

"Uh…_What_?" I asked, incredibly confused, lowering my fist.

"My mom cheated on my dad." She confessed, "He kicked her out."

I turned to her, who stood in front of the two vehicles, her hair blowing in the wind, her face in a slight pout, and waited for the point.

She sighed and played with the ring on her finger again, looking down. "I'm engaged…to Josh."

I thought about it, but my brain couldn't take it. Miley. Boyfriend, Josh. Engaged. Mom. Cheat. Dad. Nick. Hand holding. "_What_?"

Miley sauntered over to me. "The apples. They don't fall from the tree, Nick." She took my hands gracefully. "You have your dad's bare anger…and I've got my mom's… unfaithfulness." She swallowed.

"You're _engaged_?" I dwelled, dropped her hands. "Like, to be married?"

"Nick—,"

I just blew up. Exploded. There was so much anger I didn't get to take out on the car. So much heartbreak and rejection over a relationship that never got to exist. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me? Why'd you let me pine after you like a _moron_ when you _love_ him?"

"I don't love him!"

"Have you broken up with him?"

Silence.

I started back for the church. On the inside, I stood by the chancel doorway. It seemed as though the service had resumed like I didn't exist.

Miley came up behind me.

"I didn't…" she stuttered like she was just about to cry. "I didn't think I was gonna fall for you."

The preacher's microphone squeaked with inference and his voice came back deafening. "…and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

Oh, that preacher. That preacher with ironic timing.

I wasn't even thinking of Miley. I was focused on preacher. What she had said was a mere saying. I imagined this moment bigger, the moment she said she was falling in love with me. But I was so emotionally exhausted, I couldn't say anything back. I simply took her hand and pulled her into me and kissed her head, and I repeated John 8:7 over and over.

I was ready to be the other man...start the first of many ungodly hours.


	9. Chapter Eight

"I'm scared," she mumbled at the phone.

I almost laughed. "You don't have to do it _now_. In fact," I said, taking her cell away. "I urge you not to."

She looked at me helplessly.

"At least not around me. This Joshua character sounds like a loose canon."

"And you're _not_?" She asked, knowing the answer.

Later that morning, the sisters suggested that I not go back into the chancel. That I should go home and have some Chamomile and read over some passages they had written down on a post it. I did go home, but I drank some root beer instead and for the last hour I had helped Miley contemplate breaking up with her fiancé while she and I backed up my mother by cleaning the hot plates and making desserts.

"Okay, but at least _I'm_ clean."

Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.

"Sorry,"

Joe and Antoinette were returning from Marseille tonight and my mother had planned a welcome back party. And by "party" she meant hours of talking politics and business with the whole Fletching clan while Joe cleaned his nails silently and Antoinette smiled all fake like she was enjoying herself. Yes, I said the _whole_ Fletching clan: mom, dad, uncles, aunts…Everyone was coming.

I was dreading it. The only faint light above this miserable event was the fact Kevin _may_ show up.

"You excited about your brother coming back?" Miley asked, as if she was reading my thoughts and could feed them back to me.

"I want to be," I responded and put a plate on the counter. Mom was supposed to back from the store by now. I was tired of doing this. I sighed.

"But…" the girl edged.

"But…I don't like his fiancée and I don't like her family. And I don't like the fact my mom's trying to please them by being a stush and my dad has to pretend he's perfect. They're all gonna see through it."

"Like they don't got their own issues." Miley spoke, letting fresh sarcasm into the kitchen and putting her pastry bag down.

"Doesn't look like it." I replied.

"You don't look like it either, Nick." She said, and it sounded like the sweetest promise. "When I saw your house, your uniform, the way you _talk_, I could've sworn I was in a fragrance ad. You looked perfect."

I looked up to find a smirk playing on Miley's cheeks and realized she wasn't only referring to my lifestyle. _I _looked perfect.

"And if it makes you feel any better about your messed up day," she looked at the flat pan and chuckled. "My frosting looks like Smurf crap."

I laughed out loud, taken aback by her description, and walked over to the island. I took a look and laughed again. "Oh my God! It _does! _There's Papa Smurf's…and _there_ is Clumsy's—"

"Stop it!" she took offense, laughing along. "It only looks that way 'cause it's _blue_."

"_Yeah_, Miley. _That's _why." I played.

"Oh, shut up." She grabbed the pastry bag and pumped blue frosting on my face.

A clump hit the ground.

"H-ey," came the whine from my mouth, stiff with frosting. I wiped the blue off my face with my fingers. And in one swift motion I flicked it at her face.

She hurdled too late. "Aah! Nick!"

I laughed at her blue-moled face. "Karma's a b*tch, love."

I didn't have time to mentally overanalyze the fact I called her 'love', because in a second's time Miley was splurting frosting at my face again. I opened my mouth to eat it to avoid having to clean it up off the floor later. When she realized I was catching most of it she got bored and quit.

I swallowed the last bit licked my lips. "This can't be good." I realized.

"What?" Miley asked, squirting whatever was left in the bag into her mouth. "We'll clean it up later." _*_swallow*

"It's not that." I said. _We'll clean it up later? _God, what a Demetria thing she said. And how Knight of me to just fight back and prompt a giggle-fit to give Miley joy and excitement. "It's my blood sugar. It's gonna skyrocket."

Is this what love is? Making stupid messes and feeling great about it? …_This_ is how Knight feels about Demi. This is the kind of reckless that makes people crazy. The laughing, the racing hearts, the feeling that the two of you are the only people that exist. This was the teenage dream. And I had it with somebody else's girl.

"Can I get you something? Like maybe some water…to wash the taste out?" Miley asked, her concern increasing.

I nodded.

She sauntered over to the refrigerator and with her back turned to me, I couldn't help but take a look at her bottom.

Oh yeah, I had it…bad.

She handed me a glass of water, ice cubes taking a swim to the surface (she was one of those glorious people who put the ice in first to decrease beverage temperature).

I took a swig and she cleared her throat.

I looked. A death glare. "Oh. _Thank you_."

She swaged from one foot to the other, getting closer to me each time. She stopped at my face, her nose just below mine and her lips in perfect kiss location…her upper parked right between my lips, and her lower right under my lower.

Demi voice came ramming into my brain.

"_Kiss her. K.I.S.S her. Kiss her, and she'll stay."_

Three seconds felt like eternity and finally I was ready to kiss her. My breaths became heavy, my body went numb and my face blushed red. I leaned in and,

"You're welcome." Miley said. She back away a little and eyed the clock. Quarter to five. "Ooh, better go shower."

She pranced off and paused in the tunnel. She spun. "Or would you like help cleani—"

"No, it's fine." I spat before she could finish. "I'm good, Mi."

"'Kay," and she was gone.


	10. Chapter Nine

Six o'clock came around rather fast but the preparation made it seem like hell: miserable and eternal. The tie I was talked into wearing was stupid and I had no reason to wear shoes. Hello? I _lived _here. I looked nice to the mirror, though. Wearing black, semi-skinny jeans, a light blue buttoned dress top and a loose white tie I looked like a back up GUESS model.

I'd never admit it…_ever_—but I kind of liked Mom's soirees. I liked looking important and fashionable. And looking at myself as the sun's dying rays streamed through my window, reflecting off my irises and making ardent shades of brown, I was…_proud _to be Paul Lucas' son.

Yes. Proud.

He was such a successful man, no matter how many beers he drank. He remained professional when he had to be and made it. People looked up to him and envied him in the privacy of their homes…their less-expensive, less-decorated, less-photographed-for-the-paper homes. Men would give my mother a long ogle every time we went to the park when I was young. They'd smirk and then friend—or whoever was nearby—would lean over and whisper. After hearing the secret the watcher's face fell in sadness and disgust. By the time I was eleven, I realized the secret was always that she was married…to Paul the Rich Alcoholic. Regardless of what people said, he had landed every man's dream. The American dream: money, recognition, and a beautiful woman to have and to hold. I was proud of him and thankful to be his offspring. I honestly couldn't imagine myself average. Being an average citizen in an average town, with an average mother. I was lucky and I owed it all to my dad….even if he _was_ a complete jack*ss

I sighed thoughtfully, cocked my head to the left and gazed at the dresser. Now, which watch would Paul wear? The Rolex?...Or the Kolbar?

The door opened behind me and I disregarded it.

"Kolbar," I chose.

I hear an attracted whistle and decided to see by mirror. Miley.

"You look handsome."

I turned 360 to see her full on, and damn, Demi's little black cocktail dress sang duets with her body. The chest area was a little big but other than that, wow. Her hair was straightened paper flat, parted slightly to the left with a loose, but neat bun in the back. The number was finished off with black heels she'd bought at the mall. She was stunning. And she was mine for the night.

"You look beautiful," I said breathlessly. "and thanks." I remembered.

"You're very welcome."

The moment I took a breath there was the sound of the front door opening. Loud squeals and _Hello, darling_s erupted under us.

Miley hesitated, unsure of what to do at this point. You could tell it had been a while since she'd been to an oversized family function, and the last time…well, you know what happened. "Sh…Should we go down now?"

"No," I said quickly. I walked over to the radio and turned up the volume to its usual twenty percent. While the static subsided I shut the door behind Miley and led her over to the bed, my hand on the nape of her back. "Now, we wait."

I sat down beside her standing body and she sat, too. She crossed one leg over the other for safety.

Letting some air some air out through my nose, I tried not to think about between those legs. _A black thong maybe. Maybe…not? _I grabbed my phone to distract myself and started a game of Free Cell.

Ten minutes passed and Miley was on the bed, on her knees, watching the game. "Nick,"

"Mmh,"

"What are we waiting for?"

I looked at my watch. Just in time. "Wait for it."

"Wha—?"

"Nicholaaaas!" My mother called. These parties were a routine.

Her head twisted over my shoulder and she looked at me in surprise. I laughed. Those blue eyes were gonna kill me one day. I got off the bed and gave Miley a hand off next. We walked into the hallway and Miley stopped herself at the stairs. "Should I walk beside you or…"

"Uh, behind if that's okay. I don't wanna be asked about this just yet."

"Good idea." She said, moving so I could make the first step down.

I was surprised and thankful she'd understood _"this"_. I didn't even know what _this _was.

I continued down at my party-pace (aka _snail-_pace) and Miley followed at a perfect distance behind: close enough to make it seem like she was my date, but far enough to not look clingy. The last thing I wanted was a discussion about serious relationships with a Fletching.

And even though the gathering was in as full of a force as it could be, I felt like we were attracting attention. Miley's heels killed me with every step. Down seventeen wood stairs is where the true discomfort began. Heads turned from all angles: the tunnel, the kitchen, the living room and dining area…

I spotted Mom gesturing me from the kitchen. "Say hello," she mouthed.

I huffed and reluctantly went to the intersection of the three rooms, a nervous Miley right at my tail, and said "Hello, everyone."

"Oh, it's the _younger_ one," called a female Fletching loudly.

The guests "Ooh"-ed like I was art.

I was just surprised she was able to exclaim with such a facelift. I would've guessed it was Antoinette's mother if I cared enough. Her eyes were just an easy a brown. She was paler than Antoinette but her lips pouted just as big. I frowned. She was sitting in Dad's chair.

"How's _Harvard_, boy?" she spoke again.

"Ahhhh,"

I squinted, irked at the sudden fascination in me. "Fine," I answered flatly.

"_Only_ fine?" a male Fletching came, sitting on the arm of Dad's chair. I co-thought of the scene Dad would _want_ to cause if he saw such a thing. _Two_ people on his chair. Mr. Fletching sat slightly slouched due to his age. He wore a grey sweater-vest and his glasses—though they fit just fine—always sat on the bridge of his nose when he spoke. They went even lower when he asked questions just so he could steal your soul with his icy-coloured eyes when you answered.

The whole house went quiet, seeing I'd been caught with a poor answer.

I stiffened. _No going back now_. "Yes," I said, as solidly as I could. "Fine."

Mr. Fletching took a slurp from his mug, moved it from his face carefully and a smile crept onto his face. "A man who sticks to his word," he said tightly and paused in thought.

The house stayed still as wood, awaiting the verdict. Who _was_ this guy?

"…I like that."

The whole spot breathed with me, with the exception of Miss Miley, who was suppressing laughter over the whole situation. The party went back to normal and Miley reached up to my ear.

"That's what happens with rich people when a kid says fine?" she asked, trying to control her amusement.

I nodded once, a bit offended.

"Ha. …Pricks."

"Hey," I warned softly, and started guiding her to kitchen.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just wondering what the infamous _Jantoinette_ is like. Is your brother anything like you?"

"No." I answered, shaking my head. I laughed to myself at the reality. "Nothing. At all."

Once in the kitchen, she propped her elbows on the counter and her head on her fists. She wondered, gazing at the chatting adults ahead.

"He's not anything like _them_ either." I turned to my mother. "Where are they?"

"Their plane landed at 6; they'll be here by about six-thirty. I told you this morning after you got back from church, remember?"

"Oh yeah." I didn't.

Mom stepped to the left and Miley caught her eye. She stopped and looked her down and up and down again. She locked eyes with Miley. A smile. I relaxed.

"Hi,"

Miley smiled weakly in response, blood in her cheeks. "Hi."

"Demi's friend, right?"

"Uh, yes."

"Pleasure to have you. Your frosted Danishes look fantastic. Thank you for the help." She wiped her hands on her apron. "I sure need it around here when Paul's working."

"...It's Sunday."

I glared at Miley, telling her to not start this with my eyes. I took her with me to the kitchen table to give my mother space and we sat down again. Only this time, Miley sat her bum on the same chair as me. We lacked space.

She stood and re-sat on my left knee.

_Oh. _I continued my game of Free Cell.

Several minutes passed the smell of seasoned chicken circulated the main floor. Then the smell of casserole, brown rice, fresh vegetables, and lasagna.

I made a noise.

"You are such a guy." Miley teased. "Moaning over food like that."

I smirked. "You should know…it's not just the food." I let my hand graze over Miley's thigh ever so slowly.

"_Oh_," Miley eyes grew and she smiled. "I guess I should get up then." She did. "Wouldn't want you all excited when your brother comes."

I snorted and gave my watch another look. Six-fifty, it read.

"Ugh, gosh," came Mom, massaging her temples. "Where is Paul?" she muttered to herself, "I told him to go at five for _exactly_ this reason. I knew he'd end up somewhere else."

Our guests had already begun eyeing the food and drooling. Some of the Fletchings had pulled out their phones to text and find out what was going on. What was a welcome back party without the people coming back? Just wel...party?

My frustrated mother sighed, pacing. "Damn. The _one_ time I ask him to do something."

I swivelled my head. "Should we start without them?" I asked.

Just then the lock to the front door popped and the door itself creaked open. And there came in Joe with Antoinette at his heel. They both looked annoyed and exhausted.

_Dad,_ I thought, standing up

The whole party had cheered and the couple smiled faintly. "Hi," they said at once.

Sounding—and looking—like I did when I entered their party, they followed my track to the kitchen and Joe leaned over my Mom's ear and told her, "Dad's in the backseat."

I stood there and erased every thought I had of being _proud _of my father.

"Where's Frank?" Mom asked suddenly frantic.

"The car, too. But don't worry, Dad is _out_."

Mom rolled her brown eyes, huffed, and stormed out to the driveway.

The door slammed shut and Jantoinette's eyes travelled the room. Finally Joe eyes met mine.

"Hey, you." He said like he always did. We weren't ones for sappy…but we did hug...for a long time.

He pulled away and gave me a slap on the back to Guy things up.

_Ow!_ I winced.

"Oh my God!" He said and checked out my face from ten different angles. "Is that _stubble_?"

I covered my face with my hands, already going red. "No," I moaned.

He and Antoinette laughed and _aww-_ed. Lowering my hands, I looked at them completely. Joe, in his Le Monde Tactile t-shirt, skinny jeans and an obvious last-minute tie, got a haircut with a bad fade. And Antoinette, in a shiny grey-brown dress, had nothing different about her. She never did. She was 25 and still looked the age she was they met.

"And who's this little beauty?" Joe asked seeing Miley.

"Miley," she answered. She extended her hand for a shake.

"Ahh. Enchanté." He crooned and kissed her hand gracefully.

"'Kay," she replied.

Mom returned with Frankie holding her hand and Dad stumbling behind her, wearing sunglasses. I would have laughed if it wasn't so outright embarrassing and just plain pathetic.

Us Lucases always seemed to give the Fletchings something to look at.

"Okay," Ma said with a sigh. "Let's eat!"

- x.0. x -

An elderly male Fletching smiles, lifting his fork up and swinging it around for emphasize. "…The guy says, 'Sir, your helicopter only goes 182 MPH'. I say, 'Yeah, 'till _I_ am behind the wheel!'"

The dining room explodes with laughter and the Fletching repeats the punch line a good four times before finally eating what's on his fork.

"So. Paul. How's the business going? You planning on having Harvey here take over?"

My eyes narrowed. I bit my tongue to halt an outburst.

Dad opened his mouth to talk but Joe was quicker.

"I sure don't know," Joe said, faking niceness and dumb too obviously. "Hey, Nick!" he yelled from the other side of the table. "Do you _want_ to take over Dad's business?"

He was so annoying, but I loved him for this. _Asking _me what I wanted to do with my life. Calling me Nick…not son or boy or _Harvey_. I also hated him then, too. Putting me on the spot like this was evil.

I twiddled my thumbs. "Well, umm, see, I don't know. I mean, think about it. I'll be done school by the time I'm twenty and by then Dad'll be 48. That's not at all time to retire. Especially nowadays. Putting work on hiatus or passing it to someone as inexperienced as I am—and _will_ be without experience in secondary first—is extremely risky. Now I try my absolute _best_ in academics _and _making my father proud, but I won't even consider such a task until I'm sure I am ready."

Nods arose at the table, understanding and actually taking all the crap I'd just spewed.

I smiled knowing the discussion was over as soon as it started and Dad couldn't protest a thing.

Dinner continued for another 6 or 7 minutes and the fiancés at the end wouldn't stop giving each other looks and argumentative whispers. So much so, I couldn't keep up in the footsie game I had going beneath the table. Miley was winning.

Soon their faces showed they'd come to an agreement (that Joe wasn't _really_ happy with) and even though it was relatively quiet around, Antoinette tapped a glass with her spoon. "Everybody," she called childlike.

The table slowed down.

"Joe and I have an announcement." She told us.

We continued to eat. None of Jantoinette's "announcements" ever required full attention, no matter how bad she wanted it. They were always no-brainers. "Joe told me he loves me," "Joe is moving in," "Joe and I are officially professional photographers," and so on.

Antoinette looked at Joe lovingly and bit her lip. "Weeeell," she mused and released. "We eloped."

Mouths fell open, utensils were dropped, everyone rendered speechless.

_I knew it!_

Antoinette giggled lightheartedly at the group and hung her head. "You know...it's not a big deal."

"Yes it is!" her mother bursted. "How could you get married behind our backs?"

"Well, I mean, it was a last minute thing." she defended. "We'd been wanting to be married for years now. It just made _sense_ to do it without all the drama. Our friend S did a great job—"

"You're doing it again." her father told her straight up. "You're wedding again. I will not accept the fact my only daughter got married in a dirty French motel."

"It was _not_ dirty!"

"So you admit it was a motel!"

Joe sat looking sick to his stomach. He was watching our parents, too lost in the argument. You could tell Mom and Dad were upset, too, but not like the Fletchings. Even Miley was wildly uncomfortable. We had locked ankles and exchanged looks of discomfort.

"I am so sorry." I'd mouthed to her. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

She nodded understandingly.

"Can you not yell in front of the children?" Mom asked, overwhelmed by the night. An hour and a half into the party and she'd done it all: cooked, cleaned, powered herself, got Frankie out of the car with a passed-out but dangerous drunk, made the passed-out, dangerous drunk look somewhat presentable, and now she was referee in a debate between her new daughter-in-law and the daughter's father. The argument had escalated again to Mr. Fletching just yelling at Antoinette Lucas like she was eight.

I stole a glance at Frank beside Miley and he looked plain frightened. Eyes wide, jaw loose and all.

Mr. Fletching apologized, shoving the last bit of food he had into his mouth.

"Look," My brother spoke up. "I am so sorry this happened. I had no idea this would spark such a problem."

The Fletching clan all scoffed and Joe bowed his head back in position.

He played with his hands. "But—if you really want—we'll do it the right way."

"Mhmm, fabulous." Mrs. Fletching gushed, already on cloud nine.

"Good choice, son." Dad inserted his first full sentence of the night.

"Indeed," injected Mr. Fletching. He slapped Dad's arm beside him and winked. "And he's _my_ son now."

The air was swallowed by laughter within milliseconds.

I wasn't sure if Joe was happy or upset by this. The half smile was off-putting. So was Miley's.

I didn't feel like eating anymore. Everything felt more faked and forced than ever. Joe was talked into remarrying a woman he seemed to have a lack of interest in for the past few months or so. Frankie looked like unicorn came trotting by the window and had been giving him nasty looks all night. Dad was just...typical Dad, Mom was afraid to do anything but ask people if they wanted pie later, and—if so—heat some up. I was a mess, dating back to last night, and Miley was just uncomfortable.

But none of us addressed our issues. The group ushered themselves into the living room once again and I got a movie going. I sat on the floor with Miley in my lap—comfortable at last with some ice cream and cake. She took my hand and stroked it with her thumb after listening to me breathe like I was suppressing demons for a while. She looked at me, troubled. "Relax," she whispered. "It's all over. ...Today is over."

Her smooth whispering did me little help. She started spoon-feeding me ice cream. The cool liquid melted my anxiety and anger—those of which burned in my mouth before, out to pry my lips open and thrust out a scream. You wouldn't believe the wonders that metal spoon did on my tongue. Everything was just right as I swallowed and I gave Miley satisfaction with a smile and "Aah"-ing for more.

- x. 0. x -

I grunted as I hit Miley's bed, spread my arms out and shut my eyes. "What a day."

"It's after one. Yesterday is yesterday."

"Except I'm gonna be asked about yesterday." I told Miley, yawning. "Joe and I both. I have to think of reason for all that sh-t I said at the table. I _have_ to work for him. It's the whole reason I'm going to Harvard."

She groaned, annoyed with me to a high extent. "What do you _want_ to do? Really. No bullsh*t."

"That." I answered, growing sleepy. I didn't want another 1 am discussion with Miley. Not tonight.

"Nick," she snapped, dead serious.

"Oh, I don't know. An electrician."

"What did you wanna be when you were little?" she asked another question, crawled into the bed and laid horizontal with me. Her voice was growing tired, too.

I blinked to stay awake. "Uhhh...Baseball playing firefighter."

She yawned and snuggled into me. We laid quiet. "Cool." she said.

"Uh-huh,"

And I was out.


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Shitty, dialogue stuffed, filler before the epic chapter of every romance/coming-of-age story. Hang in there, my loves. :)**

**& I apologize for any mistakes. I found a truckload in the last two I missed. It's not that I don't proofread, I just miss them. Like I fix them in my head when I'm reading without thinking...if that makes any sense. :/**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>The next week or so passed smoothly. Nothing really happened. Dad went to work out of town again so Mom was at ease most of the time. Only thing out of the ordinary was that Joe was home and staying in his own room, next to mine. He had nightly phone conversations with his wife—who was basically <em>grounded<em> for eloping with him—that began at 2 A.M and lasted only five or six minutes. He spent most of his time catching up with Frankie (gave me a break) and jokily watching me in the bathroom to see if I ever picked up a razor. Miley and I continued about our way: very, very friendly, but nothing serious. The month of May was well afoot and the annual musical showcase at school was approaching. That meant all the time I was not spending studying, or helping family, or playing imaginary-cat's-cradle with Miley, I was listening to Demi rehearse.

She was warming up in Miley's room Friday night (yes, the guestroom was Miley's now and there was a hamper to prove it), singing scales and making foreign noises. Loud, _annoying_, foreign noises.

"Couldn't you have warmed up at home?"

"No." she said, her voice icy. "Look, I am sorry we had to move our girls' night to your house." she apologized. "My mom doesn't like to procrastinate and I don't like to cancel."

Her mother was remodeling a part of the home, an evacuation-worth project that happened every time her sister Georgia left town. Her mother stayed very lonesome since D was constantly on campus and her ex-husband (not Demi's father by a long shot) had close to full custody of little Sonny.

"Y'know," Miley started. "After everything that's happened in my life," she popped her lips. "I feel like I'm the most normal."

Demi laughed and went on with her Gah Gah Mi Mi business.

"Miley doesn't need to warm up." I stated loudly to overlap her.

She shut up.

"Nick," Miley stopped me, "I'm not a professional. Let—"

"You're good without warming up. And since Demi sings like an angel, she doesn't _need_ to warm up."

"You aren't Mr. Gadd are you, Nick?" Demi asked fiercely.

"Demi...it is _just_ us. We're your friends. You don't need to sound perfect. That's what rehearsal's for _Official_ rehearsals. You want to show us the song. Do that." I reminded her.

She heaved a sigh. "Fine." she said and began to sing.

While she did that I occupied myself in Miley, settled into me on the bed. Ran a hand through her hair, now free of extensions—which laid all too creepily on the dresser, used the next hand to hold hers, kissed her head a couple times and she "Mmh"ed at the touch not Demi's Bb5.

"You weren't even listening, were you?" Demi came at us.

Our heads snapped to her standing.

I blinked. "Uhh...yeah, yeah, of course. Rain, running, smoke...blood, tears...something about a skyscraper? Beautiful song. Beautiful song indeed."

Demi's eyes narrowed into thin, pissed rays of eyeliner.

"Don't you have a boyfriend for this?" I tried again at a defence.

My friend put her hands in her pockets. "Yeah," she answered gloomily. "But he's at soccer practice." She pulled her phone out and showed it to me. Knight was her wallpaper. I snorted. _Dude thinks he's so cool kicking that ball mid-air. _I passed it to Mi. She snorted too.

"Promise me we won't end up like that." she told me.

"Like what?" Demi questioned innocently.

A beep went off.

**Knight D – **_Missin u 3_

Miley laughed out loud. "Like _this._" She said and pulled the phone up to Demi's eyes.

"Oh," she chirped and plopped down next to us. She snatched the phone and texted back. I leaned over.

** –**_Missin u moooorreee, bb :(_

"Are you for real?" I asked, trying to take in the insanity. "What are you, thirteen?"

**Knight D –**_Lovin the pics u sent last nite ;)_

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped.

She blushed. "What?"

"Demi,"

"_What?_"

"You _know _what, Demi."

"It's like...nothing."

Beep!

**Knight D** – _Espec. this one_

_Beep!_ and the screen re-lit with a Demetria Munro I did _not_ need to see. Lacey, lewd, lustful...any other word that started with L and reminded people of sex.

"Wait." I snapped just as she was about to turn the phone away.

"Perv. Your girlfriend's right there you know."

"N-No...When did you get your _hip_ tattooed?"

I heard a breath catch in Demi's throat. "Oh...that."

"Yeah," I mocked.

Miley hit my arm and frowned at me. Deja vu, I suppose.

"It's like two months old."

"What is it?"

"A feather. Red this time." she looked to Miley. "You wanna see?"

She nodded.

Demi got up off the bed excitedly, turned sideways, pulled her pants down to her bum and her top up to the ribs. There was the feather. Its calamus began at her tail bone and the feather ran all the way around her hip, fading from blood red to plain red.

"Why?" I was confused. Not surprised, but confused. She already had a blue feather behind her ear.

She shrugged. "It's hot."

"Your mom's gonna kill you. It is hot...but your mom's gonna _kill_ you."

She chuckled and pulled her pants up. "I know." she did up the drawstrings. "So Miley, how many do you have?"

Her forehead wrinkled. "Why do you _assume_ I'm tatted?"

"Because I wouldn't _assume_ you _draw_ under your armpits."

Caught, she sighed and smiled. "Okay," She got up and showed us seven of her eight tattoos, six of them relatively small. PEACE written in her ear, Breathe written across her rib cage, Luck written on her pinky, a cross, a heart, a dream catcher for her step-brother, and JOSH written on her ring finger which was covered by her engagement ring until she'd taken it off that interesting Sunday over a week back. The eighth, she'd said, we didn't want to know where it was.

"Alright," she concluded, face red. "Nick's up."

I froze and blushed. "I don't...I'm not...uh," I felt embarrassed. Being the odd one out wasn't fun.

"He's chicken." Demi finished for me. "Wouldn't let a needle near him for a million bucks."

"Would so." I said and I regretted it immediately after.

"Wh—Is that a bet I hear coming?"

_Ohhh boy._ "Uhh, no. I think you're still caught up in Knight."

"Hmm, I don't think so," Demi said, ironically texting him back. She finished up. "Now, about that tattoo—"

"No."

"Why? You said you weren't scared." she rubbed it in.

"No. I said I'd do it for a million bucks. But you don't have that nor do I need it." I stated. _Ha!_

"..._Mm_, bock, bock, bock," came Demi, fading in with a cluck.

I eyed her warningly. "Stop," I said.

"Mm, bock, bock, bock, _ba-CAWK_!"

"Seriously."

But she continued. "Bock, bock, bock, bock. Chicken goes bock bock!" she sang.

"Stop!"

"Leave him alone." Miley added with helplessness and annoyance.

Demi did as told, removing her thumbs from her pits, unchickenating her body.

"Thank you, Mi."

"Anytime," Miley fell onto me and kissed my neck.

"Come _onnnnn_," Demi kept at it, sitting back on the bed. "It's like so cool and your mom won't even notice."

"I don't care about Mom's opinion." I lied. "My mom ain't your mom." Truth.

"It'll be so small. We'll get you the tiniest one."

I frowned and sat back. I pondered.

...Wait. Was I _actually_ considering it? Get _inked _for life?

Demi could tell I was chewing it over. "You could get it on your bicep, your wrist, your chest...your ass."

I snapped in.

"Just wanted to see if you were alive." she joked. I was a deep thinker. "We'll get it at the festival."

"What! NO! Absolutely _not!_"

"Why not?"

"It's...it's a festival! It's outside, it's dirty, it's...a festival. I want it done by a professional. With a _license_." I blurted, "I don't want some Bro trippin' on MDMA inking his boyfriend's phone number on my arm!"

A second of silence and both girls laughed hysterically.

"Oh, Nick...you're adorable." Miley crooned.

Once relaxed and breathing, Demi pointed to Miley. "You _are_ coming, right?"

"Yeah." she confirmed, wiping her tears.

"Oh, so you've kissed."

I chomped down on my lip. Hard.

Just as I about to answer when the door open. Joe: forever saving my butt.

"Hey, Nick, you seen the—" He caught sight of D. There was an eye lock.

Awkwardness stole the room. First corner to the fourth, each square foot. Tense.

"Demi," he spoke almost inaudibly.

"Joe," she said back.

I scratched my head and it became clear Demi was done talking. She'd already looked away, pain in the face.

"How are you?"

The ex looked up, frowning deep. "Fine," she hacked. She was bitter; it was obvious.

Joe looked down at the floor. "That's good—"

"You?"

He bit his lip and released. "Well."

"Where's the Mrs?"

"Uhh...I don't think that's any of your busines—"

"Ya know," she said, rising and pacing. "I would think after cheating on me you'd'a pent up some karma but I guess not."

Tense. Very tense.

Joe was stunned. I could feel my own mouth going dry from Demi's tone.

"Look, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was a kid, I was stupid."

"Why'd you go out with me?" Demi asked. Her voice was going shaky. She was spitting venom at the point, trying to make him overly uncomfortable and sick. She had changed her mind on talking. Why had she decided to confront him on this four years later?

Oh yeah...she avoided him when he was in the country...thanks to me.

_Dammit_.

"I mean, you had a perfectly good girlfriend."

"I was trying to make you happy."

Miley's eyelids had spread wide open. Not good.

"Happy." Demi asked, stopped and turned to him completely, "Like a _favour_?"

He didn't catch the anger. "Yeah." he said simply.

Miley sucked in a breath, her teeth clenched.

_Uh oh_. "SO, Joe. What was it that you wanted?"

"A favour? A _favour_!" Demi was fuming.

"_You _said it, not me." Joe stated quickly.

"You agreed! Why? What did I _need_ from you, Joe?"

"I just felt bad for you."

"Oooh," Miley injected, wincing fully in Demi's pain. "Bad answer."

Demi recovered from her own wince and muttered an "Oh", her eyes growing wet.

"Demi..."

"No, it's fine. Whatever." Demi was broken down. No longer a grenade midair, she was...sad. She'd never been seriously sad since, well, Joe split up with her.

Insults to Joe came dancing through my brain. What an idiot.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did." she sat back down on the bed for the third time. She sighed. "You could have just sent me to the counsellor yourself." she murmured, bitter.

"Okay, Nick, where's the comb at?" He was done. Too awkward. Too uncomfortable. Too many bad memories.

I picked my chin up toward the dresser.

He got it and left.

Silence as laid my hand on D's back.

"Too soon to ask?" Miley spoke.

Demi sighed some more. "Four years ago. I was a freshman, he was a senior. I'd liked him forever."

"And?"

"He was already with Antoinette." I told her.

"And you didn't tell her?"

"I didn't wanna get involved."

Demi took it from there. "I wasn't well. Very messed up. I was full out suicidal."

"Wow,"

"That's what he meant by the _favour_." Her voice reeked disgust when she said it. "He had good intentions, he just f*cked up."

"That's Joe," I said.

"It just..hurt to hear him admit I was charity." She whispered and then put on a sad smile. "It sucks 'cause he did a good job making me feel wonderful."

She was missing him, I could tell. It was so over, but she missed him. I put my arm her. "You have Knight." I reminded her. "You're not _his_ charity."

She nodded, blushing, thinking of Knight.

"I mean, sure, he's huge, and a bit of a butt head, and obnoxious, and a stereotypical jock, and accepts close-to-naked pictures of you, and ogles my girlfriend, looks like a Ken doll, and is wayyyy overprotective...As much as I don't like the guy, he _is _crazy for you and he makes you incredible happy." I explained. "If anything, you know you have two great guys that got your back."

"Oh, who's the other?" She asked playfully. I gave her an fake offended expression. "You know I'm playin'."

We hugged.

Miley looked jealous. She whimpered for me.

"Okay, okay," Demi caved, letting me go. "Have yo' man back."

She smiled brightly. "Thank you."

"Niley," Demi said under her breath.

"What?" I said.

"Niley." She repeated simply. "You guys. An inseparable couple needs a name. Niley."

My eyes narrowed at the stupidity. A name. We weren't celebrities. "Oh yeah? What's your name?"

"We don't have one." she said. "The silent K and the fact both our names are short...too hard. Knemi's stupid. Sounds stupid, looks stupid."

"But," Miley entered, "If you take your _whole_ names, and mash 'em up, you get Dynamite." she shot up a finger for the effect. That was that: Miley Stewart was a genius.

Demi's signature smile began a creep onto her face.

"Oh hell no. Go to bed." I ordered, trying to stop the insanity.

"It's nine—"

"Gotobed."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Note: The following literature is not recommended for...-You get it. Coarse language, mature subject matter, could offend you, yeah yeah yeah. **

**You've been warned. **

* * *

><p>The weather was perfect the following Saturday. Record-breaking heat for the month's end and thick, white clouds dispersed about the blue sky. The grass swayed full and green and crunched gracefully as we walked. Its smell, alongside last night's drizzle and cigarette smoke consumed the air. I was thankful for wind. This...was the festival.<p>

A band played blues-rock far beyond us under a massive white tent, shielding themselves from the hot sun. Booths for everything under the sun were scattered around us and a group of college kids sat on the damp ground, totally gone while everybody else had the pride to keep standing. People from all cliques and walks of life had attended. Homeless people, people like us (who of which had the audacity to wear their Yale t-shirts), people like Miley—pretty girls who had and flaunted—, teenyboppers whose band didn't deserve to be here, faux-rockers, hipsters, stoners, people who looked like hit men in the right place, some of everybody. We had belonged.

"Smile." Demi perked, minutes after we walked in. _Flash!_

"Dem," I whined. I didn't like being photographed.

"Time's it?" she asked.

"Five after three."

I locked my phone back up and looked to my left. My girlfriend in Demi's clothes, my Yankees' cap and one sided braid with the rest of her hair out and curly; D looking tanned and twice her age, and Knight being Knight in a wife beater too small. I wore a green v-neck and skinny jeans. Not a regret in the world.

"Hey, would you like a drink, cutie?"

I turned my head and found a male about twenty-two leering Demi down.

She bit down on her thumb seductively and giggled like a flirt. "As long as that's all you're getting me."

Ah, that's my wolf-cub, let him down easy and watch him eat his heart out.

The male ushered us and we followed as he opened a cooler. "What would you like, darlin'?"

"Your strongest. Four. And fill this one's up to the rim."

I stiffened realized her thumb was my direction. I was 'this one'.

"'Kay," he said and handed us four huge plastic red cups with white rims. My cup soon became heavy, and then light with beer. It bubbled over for a moment and fizzed out. Bubbly bronze was left straight to the rim just as she ordered.

Demi noticed the way I was eyeing the cup and chuckled. "You don't have to chug it." she informed. "Take it easy; it's your first."

Miley was looking at me, too, only concerned. "You don't have to." she said quietly.

I shrugged: an attempt to be nonchalant. "I know." Eyebrows raised, I sipped from the cup.

- x.0.x -

"Oh. My. God." I let air out through my closed lips and went into laughing fit. I was tipsy. My first time drinking and it was realized I was a lightweight. Goodness, at least Knight and Demi were somewhat _used _to being out of it for fun, but it was new to me. Parties were usually black tie events in my life. Even prom was classy and the after-parties were nothing from what I'd heard (I had early vacayed to Brazil after grad.)

"I think," I slurred, "I think...I am _readyyy..._ to take you up, on that offer, Demi."

She grinned, her eyes lighting up behind the gloss. "Which one? Oh my God, finally. Which one?" She gushed, clapping her hands like no tomorrow.

"The tattoo. The tattoo one, Demi. I am...I am..._soooo f*cking __ready_."

"Nick, no." Miley was stern, the only one sober. "You're straight buzzed."

"Exactly. This is my third cup and I wanna get 'er done before I sober up and stop myself. I wanna, I wanna...F-ck it! F-ck everything, and do something for me." I pointed to my chest.

"Nick..." She got it and I didn't. I was acting out. "This is _not_ a good idea."

"I don't care!" I yelled at her and shot up from the grass.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I guess everybody's gotta learn."

"Come on!" Demi shot up, too. Smiling, we locked arms and pranced off without Miley. She did follow behind, though.

It was four and the fifth band of the day had finished up playing. Demi and I staggered up to the tent.

"Helloooo!" I called into the small space.

The artist turned. He had dark, military cut hair, small blue eyes, dense sunburned arms with tats all the way up to his neck, and piercings in his nose, lip, ears, and eyebrows. "Hi," his voice was deep and raspy, as well.

"My friend would like a tattoo." Demi piped up.

He analyzed me and put down the pen. "Your _friend _needs to sober up first." He looked me in the eye. "I don't perform on drunk teenagers." He said that slow and carefully like I was 3.

Demi and I exchanged glances. I went into my jeans for my wallet and I pulled out a Grant. Perfect. "Do you perform on a _tipsy_ teenagers with fifty bucks?" I lured.

He stared at the money. "Is that a bribe?" He asked with a raised brow, the silver hoop attached to it wiggling.

"Do you want it..._Ry_?" I queried back, oozing attitude. I had spotted his name tag. Thankfully it was a name my tongue could work.

Ry looked left. Ry looked right. Coast clear. "Sit down."

I sat my butt down happily in the chair and my friends approached.

"Dude, you're gonna be so cool after this." Knight said, giving me a slap on the back. "I'm not even inked yet."

I looked at him gleefully, despite the slap pain. I felt in power. _Inked before Knight Dylan? Niiiceee._

"So, whadd'ya want?" Ry asked.

"Mmm..."

I pondered it and hesitantly glanced at Miley. She wasn't excited. She was upset, and surprised, and angry. Her face reminded me the night we met, in the car at my house. I thought about that. And although the memories were blurred and overshadowed by naked women in my drunk brain, I thought about everything else that night. Dr. Wilson's office, walking in the rain, my fantasy, our trip to Starbucks, everything she'd said at Starbucks. It had clicked in. That's why Mi wasn't drinking. She was cleaning up. She'd seen what alcohol and certain _things_ could do to people and quit. All this time I thought she was missing it and staying clean to stay at my house, but now it was clear. She _was_ clean. She was recovering. And I was helping. Time and time again I ranted about being better than that, staying smart and sober, acting holier than thou to the girl who drove me crazy and kept her off by keeping her with me. Yet, I was no better than anybody here, drunk and getting tatted. I wasn't my father—though I'm sure one more drink would do the trick—but I was a hypocrite. I still wanted a tattoo, though, in what was _left_ of my right mind.

"Forgiveness," I said in a beg to Miley. "And love," My eyes didn't leave her face.

She looked at me, and through the glassy layer she could see my plead for forgiveness. She smiled softly.

"In Japanese," I added. "'Cause how cheesy would it be English?"

Miley let out a laugh as soft as her smile and took my left hand.

"Alright," Ry said. "You two," Knight and Demi. "Out."

- x.0.x -

"Looks like a smiley face." Miley whispered into my ear. It was one of moments where we were quiet for no particular reason. Breathing and whispering and loving each others' existence.

I looked at my bicep, sitting in the grass. "It does, don't it?" I laughed. "I guess that happened for a reason."

Mi tapped my knees, fluttering the tips of her fingers about my shins. "I told you the Smiley Miley story, didn't I?" she blushed and dipped her head, letting her walnut brown locks cast veils around her face.

"Yes," I said. "Destiny."

"Mmmm," she hummed and leaned into me. Her eyes turned troubled soon after she opened them.

"What is it?"

She licked her lips and her chest rose, hat on her stomach. "You sober?" I nodded at setting sun. "Well...umm.."

"You can tell me anything, Mi." I ran two fingers through her loose hair.

She fidget with the hat. "I'm sorry for making you feel stupid about wanting a tattoo...and being drunk."

"I made myself feel stupid." I said, adding a not-so easy smile.

"Did you mean what you said? About doing something for you?"

I grit my teeth. "Yes,"

We went silent the singing of crickets, pop-rock, and wrappers took over. Dinnertime at the festival and I wasn't eating what we'd bought. Miley reached over right to her mini-sub sandwich. I caught her face by accident. Tears.

"What's up?" I asked.

She shook her head, more shocked I'd seen her crying. "Nothin',"

"Miley,"

"It's," she sucked in some air. "It's complicated. I don't know how to tell you."

"Is it bad—?"

"No," she threw out. "Hell, no."

I pressed my lips together. "'Kay," I said so quiet I wasn't positive she heard.

"Guys!" came Demi's voice from across the field. I squinted my eyes and looked ahead. There was her little black body, silhouetted by the orange sun at her tail. I smirked; b-tch's heels were ridiculous. She couldn't even stand right. And that purse. "GUYSSSSSSSS!"

"WHAT?" I yelled back.

"Free Madison is playing in three minutes and you get your lovebird a**es over here we're gonna LEAVE YOU!"

Damn, that girl was good at projection. My throat hurt and I considered a little concourse with Mr. Gadd.

"Sh-t," said Miley and she wiped her cheeks from tears. We said nothing more and got up, racing towards D.

- x.0.x -

You don't know how much a semi-fresh, unbandaged tattoo can hurt until you are literally _crammed _with about twelve hundred people and have a girl latched to your side. Four hours had passed since my first Duvel and I was more than sober enough to feel my arm going red then blue then purple every time I was knocked. I had a headache building in the back of my head but this was going to be fun, even if I had to make it fun.

I took a long blink for my sanity and the crowd went crazy, throwing their arms up and screaming and ramming themselves into me.

I. _Ow, _Hate. _Ow, _Crowds. _F-ck!_

"Yo, how's e'rrybody feelin'?"

The crowd responded senselessly.

"I'm Bentley," _We know. _"And y'all are _clearly_ extremists. Move to left. Left, left, left, let's go!"

Everybody, dying of laughter at his lame joke, shifted and I could at last shake a leg...a little.

"Alright, nice. Hello. I'm Ben—obviously, I just said that." he muttered.

I knew there was a reason I liked this band. The awkwardness they brought the stage wiped clean the heavy-hitters' _'swag'_ residue.

"... Leila, Thomas and Rob, and if you were too _stoned_ to read the t-shirt booth, we are Free Madison."

Cheers and more laughter.

Ben laughed with us. "Let's get it started! Jump!"

Bass thundered in and the crowd began a wave of movement. Up and down, up and down. Demi, on my far other side, went white under her tan. She'd been partying. All day. Her cheeks blew up.

_Oh no._

She swallowed.

_Close call._

Miley scooted in front of me and grabbed my hands. She jumped on her toes, never leaving the ground. I did the same.

The fourth song finished and the crowd hadn't thinned much. The sun had left orange dross on the sky but indigo would quickly eat it.

"Awesome crowd. Kids who don't take life seriously." Ben commented, impressed with the mass he'd drawn.

Mi nudged me. I looked at her and grinned, only to get lost in her eyes. Gosh, they were beautiful.

"...I see you." Ben crooned into the mic, and for a reason I felt he was talking to us.

I froze. He was.

Holy Jesus. Bentley Hampshire just talked to me...about my girlfriend. I couldn't believe it. I was starstruck and utterly humiliated at the same time, with a headache crafted by Satan. "Hi," would've been fine. Just fine. Yes, "Hi" would've been great.

"Love monkies," he murmured, never taking his dark, amused eyes off of me. His black orbs stayed planted as he reached for his acoustic, put it around his fame, and played a few chords, trying to terrify me. Then, winning, he smiled.

I breathed, still ice.

"This one's for you."

They started playing and my bones slowly melted. Our song. Like a psychic he was playing our song. The song I sang in the shower and she laughing at me the night we met. I was was at ease. I was flattered.

Miley turned to me. "Pretty awesome, huh?"

"Yeah. You—?"

"_No!_ I've been with you all day, remember?"

She was. She was with me all day. And the day before that, and the day before that, and Sunday before that. She was _always _there. Like a second half I didn't think I needed. I thought I was me with money-well-spent experiences, but the last month with her had been unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Not like New York, D.C., Brazil, the Dominican, not even my secret trip to NH to see Kevin for the first time in years. Nothing compared to these five weeks with Miley. Not a thing. Not the house, not the cars, the soirees, the monarchy, not the business. The best job in the world couldn't pay for or give this feeling. I realized if I had Miley with me for the rest of my days breathing, life wouldn't be so bad at all. Ever. I didn't even _need_ those things, what I needed was Mi.

She was _the one_. Miley Stewart was the _one_. I actually loved somebody and it was Miley, looking beautiful with her hair in the wind and her eyes flickering all kinds of blue from the stage lights.

She smiled. "You know what I wanted to say earlier?" she yelled over the power ballad.

I raised my eyebrows.

She pointed the stage. "That,"

I frowned, and then I got it. The song. She loved me. The lyrics were exactly what she wanted to say. What she meant. She loved me.

So it was mutual.

This surge of braveness ran through me and her and something wonderful happened. We moved in on each other. I gave my lips a damping and she crashed her mouth on mine. My eyes shut instantly. I kissed back. Chills snaked down my spine, blood pulsed through my veins, my heart pounded against my rib cage like an wild beast, echoing its beats to my ears. I wanted more.

Miley fingers ran up my neck, reading my thoughts, coursing themselves into my hair, using the advantage of entanglement to curl up and boost Miley on her toes. I pulled and whispered, "_Miley_". She took that moment for a breath and continued on, restarting the kiss on an open mouth. We attacked each other. Demi had screamed something but who cares what it was. I was complying, return every favour with my hands at the base of her hips. Just kissing her and nothing else. In the split second breather I threw my tongue into her mouth and she groaned like a lady, wriggling her own tongue, trying to get out from under. I backed up and she flapped on me. We wrestled for dominance, grabbing onto each bodies to stay whole. We would explode into a thousand pieces of wanting if we let go. Her hands came down hard on my chest, latching onto to my shirt.

In time it was time for air. We disconnected and gasped. The song was over. I could feel Bentley Hampshire smiling at us, but I did nothing but stare into Miley Stewart's eyes, searing joy. I didn't even blush. It felt too right. Too good. And like a reflection, she smiled with me, ear to ear. I licked the sweet taste from my lips and we let go. I was weak in the knees and wonder struck. I was dizzy. What was time? Because that—that had felt like forever. Heaven. I could kiss her till we died.

"We are Free Madison. Goodnight, May Quinton Festival! Thank you!"

Cheers.

"No," I thought aloud, gazing at Miley. "Thank _you_."

She giggled. "Dork."

We pecked once more. The crowd started to break into clumps of people. I took her by the waist and led her out.

- x. 0. x -

"Hurrgghau!" and puke was hurled onto the grass. I thanked Lord we were late and didn't make a middle row at the bonfire. Night had claimed the sky, spitting diamonds all over it. Miley and I sat next to each other and Knight and Demi...well...

"Whoa! Some chick just puked...Wait. It's the same chick from the parlour!"

I grasped Miley's hand and ran over to D, who was hunched over her vomit. Knight was in sight, rubbing her back and holding her hair like a gentleman.

"D, how much have you drank?"

She tried to make words but gagged the whole way. She threw a finger to her purse. I looked. A ribbon: _3__rd__ Place Hot & Hammered._Good gracious.

"Demi,"

"Stop parenting me, Willis." she stammered, woozy. "Just...Just..stop."

"What the f—You know what? You're done." I said, removing the drinks from around her. "No more, D."

She sniffed up her running nose and lifted her head. "Why...wh-why you gotta be like that? Huh? Why you gotta ruin the party?" she swallowed. "I can totally handle s'more."

"Demi," I was stern this time. I grabbed her wrist.

She retracted. "No! I wanna stay. You're not gonna take me. I am woman...and I...I do not listen to you or _anybody_ else. You cannot _make _me go home."

"_What_? We're not even leavin—"

"Par-ty time! Par-ty time!" She started to chant.

Obviously, there had to frat boys around to build on it. Party time was echoing through the field within seconds. Demi stood straight and a guy—who could pass as Knight but was not—stole her wrist and ran off with her. She let out a "Whoooo!" and then stopped him suddenly. "You got friends?" she asked, idea-struck and excited. "Yea," the guy said. "Get 'em. Get 'em to get my friends."

The guy pondered it and agreed with a head nod and a sly ass smirk. "Derek! Van! Wes!" Three more similar males looked over. "Get Daisy's friends!"

Demi giggled. Falling all over him, "it's Demi" she said.

Derek, Van and Wes arrived and pushed us in Demi's drunk trail. Into the dark we went.

- x. 0. x -

50 meters later light came growing and snapping in sparks. There was another bonfire, this one starring Eli (Demi's temporary frat-toy & kidnapper's) friends, all sketchy and half-there. After walking into this and standing still with a scared, wandering eye, I noticed six of the thirteen were masked. Masks decorated with rime stones and feathers, glitter, neon paint and white lace. Only two wore full, black, undecorated forehead-to-chin masks; a guy and a girl. They were the leaders of this pack. They both wore all dark clothes, and the female wore her blonde hair in a tight ponytail. The cult—er, _group—_eyed us thoroughly.

"What'cha got there, Eli?" the female spoke carefully. Her voice was raspy and sultry without intent. Sex bomb, no doubt. Her figure resembled Miley's in every right spot. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of pretty face existed under the mask.

Eli smiled sly again and put his hands on Demi. "Demi," he explained. "First time, cute face, third place Hot 'N' Hammered."

The group applauded Eli. What was this? Demi blushed and grinned, thinking the noise was for her.

And maybe it was.

The male alpha was next to speak. "And who _else_?_" _

"Uhh," went either Wes, Van, or Derek.

Knight shot out, "Knight,"

"And?" the alpha male edged, looking to me. Oh, we were introducing ourselves. Okay.

"Nick,"

"And?"

"Um...Destiny." her voice quivered like mine.

My heart went out to her. Poor girl was terrified. I longed to hold her.

"Cool," said the alpha.

"Your names?" asked Demi, brightly, too drunk to realize these people weren't particularly friendly.

"Doesn't matter." the female injected.

"Ouch,"

Eli and company guided us to mesh camping chairs. We all sat separately and suddenly the wind became very loud to me. I lived for eerie, movie moments, but this was straight up f-cked. I felt like my bones were going to be torn from my body for soup by these guys. And then they'd use the leftover flesh for blunts. I looked at Mi again. She was peeved, scared and anxious. I breathed silently. The air rolled off my tongue in white puffs.

The temperature had dropped drastically since day.

A male in a smaller mask approached us. He bent down to us. Here came the lecture/introduction. "Now that you're here, you _are here_. Nothing said, nothing done, nothing smoked, snorted, licked, rubbed or chugged will _ever_ leave your lips. Understood? Not. A. Word."

"Then why don't you just let us go?" spewed Miley, past annoyed. She had something against these guys. Her tone was vicious. She wanted out. Now.

My stomach churned.

"You're already here." he threw back. "You have eyes."

"What if I'm blind?"

I scanned the place, not really wanting to, and saw what he meant. Smashed bottles, plastic bags, aluminium foil, all with questionable content around them. Cops would be all over this. That would explain the masks. Hidden identity was key to the providers.

The guy called Miley funny, obviously sarcastic, and handed all four of us our own bottle of Hennessy. "Drink up, kiddies. Don't want you thinkin' this real life or anything."

"What's it matter?" Miley went at it again. "If we tell it's not like anyone's gonna believe us." She popped the bottle open like an expert.

"Really. No one's gonna buy thirteen people in their twenties kidnapped us, wearing _showgirl-_slash-phantom of the opera masks, and gave us crack. Why do you _bother_ with all this secret crap?" Knight added, drinking too.

Miley took a swig from her bottle and hey eyes drifted shut. Bliss. As much as I didn't want to see it, Miley was enjoying the feel of sweet alcohol down her throat. It'd been weeks.

She quickly realized what she was doing and looked at me, sorry. I didn't know what to express. She put her bottle down and crossed one leg over the other. She reached for my bottle, opened it and handed it back.

_Oh_. I shrugged and took a hesitant sip of mine.

"You love it; I see your faces." He told us. "It's one drink. And you won't relapse, princess."

_Relapse_. I thought. How did he know she was...?

Miley picked her drink back up. She gave it a hard look and then the guy a harder look and started gulping the drink down. She was like a water cooler, leaving nothing but air behind. She was half way done she chucked the glass to the ground. She looked trashed already.

She bowed her head in whatever she was feeling and the hair tousled itself. She looked up again and... Miley was Miley. The Miley I had met on the street and had palms for friends. Miley the homeless girl. _Josh's_ Miley. It was scary. I'd almost forgotten but she was back. Appearance wise, anyway. It was hot.

"Whoah," the guy was taken aback by her look.

Miley shrugged with an unreadable expression. I gulped.

"...No," the guy gasped, animated shock on his face. He smirked and rushed toward Miley, roughly

tugged on her shirt, pulling and throwing it up, trying to get at her.

"Stop," she hissed, trying to run but drunkenly failing. Her feet slipped.

And that's when I rushed over. I grabbed the guy's shirt. "Get off!" I yelled, my teeth clenched.

He managed to get her shirt up to her rib and slapped her_, _arms around her waist. I had lost. He backed up and eyed her, head-to-toe.

He began to laugh, fading in like a villain. Miley's blue eyes stared, scared and humiliated. I saw the red spot on her rib, right on her tattoo. He took a breath in. "...Stewart," he breathed out. He shook his head in disbelief, but also amusement. He smiled brilliantly.

Miley breathed, shocked and shaken. Eyes looked her way.

He wasn't going to rape her, I realized. He knew her.

Suddenly, the female alpha slowly emerged from her rock. Her mask lifted on her skin, showing she was smiling underneath. She ambled over to Miley, never breaking the gaze, and pulled off her mask completely.

Dark, swallowing eyes with grey under-circles were revealed. They tore through Miley bit by bit. A pretty little smirk laid on her face. As well, she'd been sweating under the mask and its mask movement frizzed her hair but it remained tight. She remained composed. She was pretty, just stoned.

"Miley," the girl said. She spoke just like her partner.

Miley replied, still stirring on the inside. "Hanna,"

"And _Sc-ott,_" the guy whined, wanting some recognition. He took off his mask, too. The alpha male was next. Scott sighed, annoyed, "_and_ Shane."

"Thought you could hide from us, huh, Miley?" Hanna asked, her breath brushing Miley face in smoke. "You chose a weird place to do it. May Quinton, smokers' hill?" she laughed.

She swallowed. "I, umm..."

"-couldn't resist?" Hanna finished.

I blinked for the first time in minutes. Miley sat speechless. Not even a no.

Hanna laughed again. "C'mon," she said, taking her hand. She lead Miley by the shoulders around the fire. Miley squatted for a minute behind the large can and reappeared, blunt in a hand. She let Hanna light it and took a drag.

Her bit her bottom lip and shut her eyes. More bliss. Smoke blew from her nose in an exhale and she came back to me, sitting in my lap. She stunk. "You guys...need this."

I couldn't believe how easily they'd strung her back in. She knew they were back news. She knew they were friends with Josh, her fiance, the man who treat her like sh-t. How could she after telling me all that crap that afternoon? About acting out and bad ideas? How could she?

But who was I? _I _was drunk first. I had a bruise that read Forgiveness Love in Japanese if you looked long enough. I hated my father. I rebelled against my blood. Hell, I was the one who gave Miley her ticket to MQ in first place. Who was I to judge?

Whilst Miley rambled on about marijuana, I thought about this. I disregarded everything and thought. How good would it feel to just let go...completely? Do nothing but just have fun. Make memories to forget. This night would be blur that felt so good in the moment. I wanted this. I _deserved_ it.

I gulped from my bottle and put it down. My blood sugar was going to go crazy after today. "That all you've got?" I asked, voice expectant. "Weed?" I knew the answer.

"No,"

"What else?"

- x. 0. x -

"Smileee!" Demi exclaimed and pressed the button. "Sh-t!"

"What is it, Demzy?" Hanna asked.

"I forgot the flash." she pouted. "Smile again."

None of us seven did. We stuck our tongues out, cigarettes in hand.

"Flawless!" Demi sang.

We all laughed for no reason. Her singing was perfect. We were just so...out.

"Mi Stew," Scott called.

"What?"

"Time'z'it?" he asked.

"Quarter after twelve, Scotty."

"I am so glad you're back." Hanna told my girlfriend. "And your boy's ten times cuter wasted."

"Thank you," I said, my head back.

"You in?" she asked me.

"Yeah,"

"Cool," she said, nodding in approval.

"Sorry 'bout your dad. Adults can be such ret**ds." Shane said.

I wiped my nose. "Tell me about it."

"N-n-no, let me." Demi perked.

"Okay, Hot & Hammered." Scotty laughed.

"My dad's a schizophrenic." she said.

I paused, dropping my cigarette. "...What?"

"MY DAD'S A SCHIZOPHRENIC!" she yelled.

"Augh, my head!" I cried. "Too loud, D, too loud." I rubbed my temples. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. He's your dad." I popped my lips. "He needs help."

"So does _yours._"

I frowned. I took offence and raising a finger I said, "My dad doesn't have a mental disorder."

She scoffed, ever so rudely. "Uhh, alcoholism is a _disease_ you know. He's an stage four alcoholic. I'm just surprised he hasn't struck your mom yet."

"Shut up." I shot.

"Ooh, sh-t's gettin' tense." Shane whispered, eating some wet skittles.

"Shut _up,_" I said again.

"Ooh, Mi, tame your man." said Hanna.

Miley had traded my drunk lap for hers and never left. She kissed Hanna's lips. "In a second."

The fire blew its last spark as their lips connected. The field went black.

"Crap,"

My heart skipped a beat.

"Do something," Knight said.

"We're outta garbage, dou**ebag."

"Then throw the lesbians in."

"Hey!" Miley, Hanna, and I said in unison.

I got my hands and knees from the ground and crawled over to the girls. The guys whispered-argued about flashlights.

_Beep!_

"Sh-t." Hanna came. "Sh-t!"

"What?"

"Go."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"Go! Go! Everybody go! Now!"

_Crap. Crap. _I yanked my hand into me and got up off the grass. _CrapcrapcrapCRAP. _I raced down the field, Miley by my side, and ran into the park lot. Deserted. I had no idea where I parked the car. I slowed down to a jog and looked around. _Oh God. _Something suddenly latched my hand and pulled me along. I freaked. Miley.

"Oh, come on!" she murmured annoyed, "I'd think you at least've seen _a movie_ to know how to run the cops."

She stormed us over to the west-end and there was my Mercedes. I looked around and Knight and D were already advancing. We'd all made the car at once, panting and sweating. One problem.

"Who's driving?"

The three of them looked at each other, chewing my question. I was the original designated driver. This was _not_ in the plan.

"Okay," Demi stated finally. "Clearly, I'm the drunkest." This was true. "So I'm gonna flinch. The one of you who doesn't flinch when _I_ flinch will drive."

"Where?" I asked. I would win; I knew it.

"My house. My mom's in Norwich for the weekend."

I won.


	13. Chapter Twelve

"So, how are you?" I asked Demi on our way to study hall Monday morning. We hadn't really had a conversation since Saturday night. Sick and embarrassed, no one said anything Sunday on the ride home, not even Mi. In private though, Miley and I did speak, to reassure everything that happened at the concert was real. No crap or drunk talk. We were in love and we did show it.

Demi nodded in response to my question. "Good." she said. "You?"

I laughed, suddenly struck with embarrassment. "Good."

"Good," she said again, nodding again. "Really good."

We looked at each other and couldn't help it. We burst into laughter.

"Ahaha! Oh my God," she exclaimed, hands on her face. "We were really messed up, weren't we?"

"_Yes_!" I claimed.

She swayed, trying to balance through her laughter. "Oh man," she sighed. She got it together and her arms around my waist. "Thank God we had each other. All four of us. I don't know _what_ would've happened had it had been just Knight and me."

I continued walking, my arm around her shoulder. "Well, _considering_ _you_ got us in that bonfire of trippers in the _first_ place..."

"Ugh, shut up and don't remind me." she ordered, half-playful. She pouted in thought. "What was that guy's name again?"

"Eli," I said.

"Oh yeah...He was pretty hot."

I rolled my eyes. "He looked like Knight." I mentioned flatly.

"And _that's_ why."

I chuckled and held her close. We entered the building and took a seat in the back, right in front of the book cases.

"I don't know how you did it, but you got us back all safe Saturday night." D dropped her bag next to her chair. "Proud of you."

"Thanks," I dropped my own bag. "Though I can't take all the credit. Smart Ride."

"Ahh, the car that drives itself when it's dark." Demi pointed, remembering the feature. "Yeah, I'm taking all the credit back."

I laughed. "Hey, it doesn't totally drive itself. It just..._controls _better."

Demi rolled her eyes dramatically. "Okay, buddy." She took out a book on the history of pianists and grabbed a pencil. "Look," she started, turning the mood serious. "Last night, I may have said some stuff and..."

I raised my hands, knowing what was next. "Don't worry about it."

"Nick, I just wanna apologize." she held. "It was so stupid and so, _so_ rude and I'm sorry. Really."

I smiled small. "It's okay." I said. I was easy to forgive Demi. She was never not real with apologies. Her eyes seemed seemed dance on puppy territory. I looked at her again after opening a textbook and I posed the most important question. "You're not ever gonna do any of that stuff again, are you?"

Her head shot up, her eyes wide. "No," she breathed. "You—?"

"No." I shook my head quickly and vigorously. "Never." I scoffed at myself. "I can't believe I told them I was _in_."

"Speaking of _in_...what about Miley?" Demi asked, putting finger-quotes around 'in'.

_Subject changer_. I sighed, thinking of her for the hundredth time this morning. "...I...don't know." I answered honestly.

"You haven't talked?"

"Not about that."

Demi leaned back in her chair. She gave me a look that told me I better.

I huffed again, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know. She looked so happy with them. They're her friends." I faded off and started to faux-read, using my finger as a guide.

"You _have_ to talk to her. A lot of sh-t happened Saturday." Demi reminded me seriously. "I hate to say it because you obviously love her, but.." she sighed. "This could _the_ moment of your relationship: when she decides what she wants. You...or...whatever it is we saw last weekend."

I glared upwards. "No."

"She can't have both lives, Nick." Demi told me straight. "It's you or them. ...And you know it."

I went back to the book through my circled arms and anxiously starting flipping pages. No. "What if it's not me?" I muttered, more to myself than Demi.

"Oh. I have a feeling it will be."

Her phone beeped. She read a text and sighed.

"What is it?" I asked concerned.

"Knight wants to talk."

"About?"

She bit her lips at the side. "I don't know," she said honestly. She rose. "I'll catch ya later, 'kay?"

"Alright."

- x. 0. x -

I opened the backdoor to let myself in unnoticed after school. The staircase was closer this way. I slid upstairs and headed to my room. Twisting the knob, I heard rustling on my bed. Miley was in there. I took a deep breath. "Mi," I called, entering.

She looked at me from the bed, her phone in her hands. Her eyes said stressed but she smiled. My guitar laid on the bed next to her.

"I'm home." I proclaimed, throwing my bag down.

I walked over to the bed and sat beside Miley's body, hands by her stomach, legs sprawled per usual. I leaned down and met her lips softly. She puckered back, sitting up. "Mmm," she disconnected and smiled. We kissed one more sweet time and she said, "We should talk. Now."

I nodded, licking my lips. "M'hm,"

She released herself from me and sat back again the wall. She settled Indian-style and I stayed where I was.

She laughed breathlessly. "Where should I begin?" she asked, upset with herself.

"Um," I put a foot on the opposite thigh. "What were you just doing?"

"I broke up with Josh."

My mouth opened slightly. "Oh,"

"Yeah. The guys told him about Saturday." she bowed her head explaining, "He called. He expected me back."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"I told him no." she looked up at me. Our eyes met.

"And Saturday?" I asked.

She sighed. "Well, I relapsed. Hard. I wanted Hanna to like me again so I used. It was stupid and I knew better and I shouldn't have gotten you involved. And as for the kissing...and the lap dance,"

I raised my eyebrows.

"Well, we were inclusive before."

I furrowed my brows. "So, you were with Josh..._and_ Hanna?" I asked.

"Yes,"

I clicked my tongue. "Okay." I nodded, taking it all in. "Were you engaged to her, too?"

"No." she answered.

"Okay," I said again, nodding again. "...Freak."

"Shut up." She laughed and play hit me.

"It's true!"

"I know and I'm sorry." she apologized, now somber. "For all of it. Everything. It never should've happened. And I am sorry we sang The Lazy Song on the way to Demi's."

I pressed my lips together. "It's fine. As long as we're done. No more booze, no more drugs, no more...bi stuff...at least not with me." I smiled a little. "And to be honest, I had fun."

She cocked a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," I assured. "It was the most _exhilarating _night of my life."

Miley said sarcastically with a laugh, "Getting trashed and running from the cops alongside your stoner girlfriend is _definitely_ the highlight of your Lucas-ed life. No really, what wins?"

I moved in closer. "Definitely kissing you." I murmured, closing the space between us. We kissed into each other, our lips moving from slothful to desperate.

"It was all I could think about..." I said and pressed my tongue against her lower lip. She opened her mouth, sliding to a lye down on the bed. "...being with someone like you." I climbed on top on her and went at it, moving my mouth all over hers.

She moaned and separated us by a millimetre. "Cool?" she asked-whispered into my mouth and her breath along my tonsils drove me nuts.

I groaned quietly and laughed her response. "Does that creep you out?" I kissed her again. While I tilted my head for better access, Mi's hands came down on me, tracing every muscle I had.

"Yeah. After everything...I didn't think you'd even talk to me, never mind kiss me. I'm—Mmm—happy, Nick."

Breath came vibrating from my lips as she reached my abdomen. I was one second off a boner when my stomach growled.

Miley's eyes opened, over-animated. "Way to ruin the moment. You're hungry." she said quietly laughing.

I blushed, crawling off of her reluctantly. "Yeah," I admitted. "You?"

She bobbed her head, getting up.

"Then c'mon." I whisked an arm under her legs and another around her shoulders and picked her up off the sheets.

She shrieked, throwing her arms around my neck. "Aah, Nick!" and she started to laugh.

I kissed her. It shut her right up. "Come on." I beamed. "I have to distract myself from thinking about a threesome with your hot friend."

I descended the main stairs, Miley in my arms, at a decent speed and let her down in the tunnel. She sighed of relief. We held hands to the kitchen. We walked in and I saw my mother, looking stern as hell. I hadn't seen her this pressed since Joe's high school grad.

A lump formed in my throat. _Uh oh._

I made my way over to the fridge like I didn't see it and took out some milk.

I looked again. Still there.

_Sh-t. _I went for the Oreos, picking up the pace.

"Nicholas," my mother called, hard in the voice.

I looked over again. She gave the 'Come Here. . ._Now_' index curl and 'I Want a Word with You' look.

I swallowed. The lump wouldn't budge. I mouthed "one sec" to Miley behind me at the table and went into the sitting room. "Yeah, Mom?" I asked hoarsely.

She moved her laptop over to see me, gave me a harsh glance, sighed and the anger melted. Only stress remained. She propped her chin on a first. "Nick," she said. "I'm going to ask you this _once_ and I want the _truth_."

I blinked. I didn't even consider what she may ask. She's Mom. I'm Nick. We're good. And it's not like she knows about—

"The festival. Were you using drugs there?"

_Oh...Sh-t._ I paused in shock. _Uhhh..._

"Nicholas," she spoke harder.

"Uhh...well, um." My brain completely froze. "Why?"

"Because," and she spun the laptop.

I stared at the screen. 'Thirteen Arrested for Drug Possession & Drunk Driving Departing May Quinton Festival,' it read. _Thirteen,_ I thought. "What does that have to do with me?"

Mom leaned onto the back of her chair. She crossed her arms. "I got a call from the police station. They said word from the arrested is you, Demi, Knight and Miley were there. You using drugs _with_ them and left the scene."

Breath caught in my throat. What? Did they not leave when we did? I sighed loudly, full of frustration and pangs of betrayal. Slow_-_ass b-tches. Probably tried to take the crap with them. Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots.

My expressions told her everything. My mother shook her head and put a hand to it. She closed her dark eyes and blew out some air after me. "_Why_?" she asked with length and stress.

I shook my head in disbelief of the whole ordeal. _You know what?_, I told myself. _Whatever._

I laughed dryly, finding nothing really funny. "Mom, it's a music festival," I defended us. "There are drugs. We experimented. No big deal. Nobody was hurt, nobody died. Promise."

"Experimented," my mother echoed incredulously. "You don't _experiment_ with drugs, Nick."

"Well, I did. And I'm not addicted. I tried crystal meth and I haven't thought about it since." This was the truth, but my toes curled at the thought of the high now.

"Besides that, Nick." I said exasperated. "Do know how dangerous that is? Using drugs, driving impaired?...Your blood sugar? You could have been—" she halted and stared at my arm. "What is that?" she demanded.

I looked. "Oh. A tattoo." I said nonchalant.

Mom was just stunned. It was too much at once. She parted her lips but nothing came out.

"It's just Japanese characters." I shrugged easily to sooth her. "See?"

She ran a hand through her dark locks. "No thank you, Nicholas." she insisted. She was _not _impressed.

I scoffed mindlessly, bothered by her morose all of a sudden. "Mom, we were just _having fun_. Don't _worry_ about it." I didn't want to be lectured. I didn't care anymore. Saturday was Saturday and Monday was Monday.

But she rolled her eyes and shut the laptop. She stretched out her hand toward me and wiggled her fingers. "Give me your keys," she ordered.

"To my car?"

She nodded.

"Why?" I demanded, flabbergasted. "No," I shot.

"If you aren't going to drive responsibly, you aren't going to drive at all." she explained in her angry parent voice. I was reminded she was authority.

But I was eighteen so, "You can't take my car."

"Really," she said, starting a flawless rebuttal. "I don't remember you getting a _job _and _paying_ for it." she came with snide.

I groaned. She was right. The Mercedes was a gift until I got a job and paid for my own...or at least paid off the remaining 59,000 on the Mercedes. But who wants to _work _part time...or drive a _used _vehicle? I shuddered at the thought.

"Come on, Nick, enough lip. Keys. Now." My mother snapped.

_I hate it when she's right._ I reached into my jeans' pocket when the thought crossed my mind.

"How am I gonna get to school, Mom?" I asked and used the slight bat of an eyelash to my advantage.

She pursed her lips. "Well," she now grew amused. "There's this magic bus underground, that takes naughty boys where they need to go, called the subway."

"The subway!" I almost yelled. I couldn't breath. The air wouldn't go. No. Help. No. "Th-th-th-the-th-the—" I stammered.

"Honey,"

"Subway? Mom, let's be reasonable. Subways are gross." I cried and whined like a baby. I got shivers just thinking about the subway. The skin under my skin crawled and I wanted to cry. "Subways. Are. Gross."

I handed her my car keys after she wiggled her finger some more and almost wept.

"So are drugs, Nick," Mom replied, picking up and walking away. "So are drugs."

"This sucks," I muttered once she was gone and turned to face Miley in the kitchen. She and Joe bit their lips at the island, beat red in the face. The cheats rose and fell every second. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cookie.

"Busted on the good stuff, huh?"

"Shut up, Joe." I took Miley's lips in mine and then her hand in mine and went upstairs. She laughed the whole way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: How 'Sense and Sensibility' of me. lol. & I love/hate how quickly I fixed the drama. It's alright I guess.**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: Shorty for ma shawties. I know you don't like short chapters. Just wanted some stupid drabble before we get started on some more heavy stuff. Don't be _too_ annoyed ;P**

* * *

><p>"Ugh, I hate this." I murmured, my hand trembling in Miley's. It was six-thirty in the morning at subway station, which meant I had wake up a half an hour earlier than I usually did. Not because the bus departed much earlier, but because I had no idea how this worked. Needlessly to say, I was tired and it took every fibre of my being to not collapse. I was too tired to even bring my coffee thermos to my lips.<p>

"I have never seen this side of you." Miley brought, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What side?" I asked, clueless.

"The annoying, bratty, rich kid side." she scorned, nudging me in the side.

"Ow. I am _not_ bratty." I came back.

She mocked in a voice girlie than her own. "Mommy, I don't wanna take the subway. The subway is grooossss, Mom! Waaaahhh!" she cried, flailing her hands.

"Be quiet. I never done it before, okay?"

"Wait," she stopped walking and almost tripped me. She turned to look me in the eye. "You've never ridden the subway?"

Pursing my lips, I blushed slightly and shook my head.

"But," she said, unable to process this. "But this is New York. You_ live_ in New York."

I cocked my head left and shrugged. "I just haven't."

Chugging became loud, and sooner than later the screech of the subways against metal tracks intruded my ears. My eyes grew. I was terrified and it showed.

Mi breathed out, becoming entertained with this situation. "Tell you what. I'm going to be here when you get on and I'll be here again when you get off. So at least the walk the home won't be so bad." she offered.

I smiled, nodding my head in agreement. "Okay."

"Okay," she said and she kissed me.

"I love you." I whispered against her lips, ultra-dramatically, like this was our last moment together.

"You are _not_ going to die." she promised, annoyed. She kissed me again and pushed me toward the curb roughly. "Now get on the damn train and make me think you're manly."

I chuckled and staggered toward the train's doors, still set off from the push. I gave her a wave goodbye and went in.

I looked around. Seats, metal, poles. _Okay, not so bad...Kinda like the bus._ Not that I liked the bus, either, but at least if a bus crashed, the ambulance could get to it. I mean, how long would it take for somebody with third degree burns to get to the hospital from a _subway_? Forever, perhaps.

I took a deep breath, giving toll. _I'm being f-cking silly,_ I decided. Nothing was going to happen. Tons of people rode the subway. _I'm being silly. _I breathed easy and sat down in an empty three-seater by the window. I looked out and Miley was still there. She gave me a thumbs up. I felt a hundred times better. This was going to be fine.

I pulled out my phone.

**Nicholas – **_I AM manly._

I looked out the window and saw Miley smiling. She texted back.

_Beep._

**Mi –**_Lmao. Good for u._

**Mi – **_c u at 3 then to __walk u home__, chuck norris? x)_

**Nicholas – **_u know u'd b there whether i was scared or not ;]_

Beep.

**Mi –**_ boy plz_

Beep.

**Mi – **_43_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. Stuff.**

* * *

><p>"...All of your assignments should be in by Thursday, fourteenth hour, no exceptions. ...Dismissed."<p>

I got up with everyone else, just as annoyed as everyone else. The professor was missing two assignments last week (one being mine, in all honesty) and held us in 15 minutes to stress the importance of punctuality and submitting nothing but quality work. The semester was ending, exams were soon, all this stuff was crucial. Drop dead important.

Doesn't mean doesn't mean we appreciated the lecture.

I left the building and ran towards my dorm to get my stuff. I was late. It was quarter to three and I was late. I would surely miss the train.

A face stopped me at the pillar. She smiled.

"What took you so long?" Miley asked, a smirk on her face.

"Miley!" I approached, pulled her close. "Thank God." I kissed her passionately.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

"What are you doing here, Best Girlfriend _Ever_?"

"I wanted to see you."

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. _Really?_

"_And_ I was hoping you'd come _home_ with me."

I frowned slightly. "Home? With you?...Uhh, sure."

In about a dozen minutes, we sat on the subway and I was completely comfortable. This morning I had carried a conversation with a woman named Emina, who completely distracted me from the fact I was traveling sub-ground.. She was studying neurology, collected coins, was a strong supporter of the Republican Party and lived by the old testament.

Miley here was a little _less _comfortable because a question itched at my tongue since we left.

"Mi," I began, cautiously.

"Yeah, babe?"

I questioned, "Uh...Why are you...going home?" I was curious as to why she wanted to go back to Woodridge. Not that she didn't have a right to see her family, but I was fully under the assumption 'home' didn't really have anything for her. I knew it was only a trip; she'd talk to me if it wasn't.

She put her book down and sighed. "I've been gone a while, Nick." Miley twisted, turning her back to rest on my shoulder and pulling her feet up to the other side, taking up the second and third space.

"I know, I know."

"I just wanna tell my 'rents I'm alright."

I nodded slowly. "'Kay."

I twined my fingers into her hair as we hit a bump.

"..._and_ I wanna see if my mom's alright." she confessed, sinking into me.

I kissed the top of her head. "Why wouldn't she be?" I murmured into her locks.

She shrugged tinily. "I don't know." she lied. "Me. Mike. Stuff."

It came to me how perfect we were for each other. Two messed up kids in love with each other. This could be wonderful or tragic. And right now it was a little bit of both.

"Hm," I responded and kept twisting. I took a strand of her hair and whisked it over her upper lip.

She giggled, feeling more easy. "You know I love you, right?"

"'course," I answered and we kissed.

"I love you," she repeated. "Like, a lot."

"Love you, too, Mi." I smiled through the statement.

She sighed a sigh of happiness and backed her lips away. "So," she said, "Tell me about this E_min_a."

- x. 0. x -

I stepped out of the station on the other side of town and peered around us. My surrounding were different. _Much_ different. It was as if a sand storm passed by months ago and nobody took care of the mess. The sidewalks were sprinkled with earth and had weeds blossoming from the cement. Looking up, building were constructed with gray stone and not much else.

We walked along, hand-in-hand, to Woodridge Street and it looked just like the rest of the town: bleak. A single row of townhouses stood on our right and a hill of weeds, fresh grass and dandelions on the left. The thriving field was seized by weathered old, black fence. Beyond that was a in-ground pool with no water and no children. A few had rolled by on their bikes but that was it. The street was almost deserted for such a nice day.

"Are youuu...afraid?" Mi asked me.

I swallowed back the growing lump in the throat. "Intimidated...is a better word."

She swung our arms, walking more actively. "Well don't be. No one gonna hurt you." she swore. "Although they may hurt me." she muttered.

"No, they won't." I had developed a habit for answering the things she didn't want me to hear.

We strolled passed a double digit house with a seemingly Hispanic-Italian young lady and tall guy on the porch. They eyed us down, analyzing the newbies. And then the girl—in a white low cut V-neck, high waisted shorts, and a very lacy bra—came down the steps and her face drew a smile just like Hanna's Saturday night.

"Miley," she called.

Mi spun.

Okay, so maybe I was just a newbie.

"Selena," Miley almost cheered. "Hi."

Selena came closer and just when I thought she was going to hit her, she pulled Mi in for a hug...and Miley obliged.

"I am so sorry about the Josh split. Musta been nasty." she told her, whispering. It was then that I realized she was older than Miley. At least by three years. I remembered she was the drummer of Josh's band's wife with a kid.

"It's okay," Miley said. She pulled out of embrace. "So, uhh, how's Ben taking it?"

She'd pointed back to the porch and looked over there. Ben was leaning over the porch fence, squinting with a beer in his hand.

"He'll be fine. It's just the boys being typical boys." she waved a hand as to shoo away the worry.

"No, it's not." Miley protested,"It's not right...and it's not fair."

I was lost.

Miley continued, "Look. If you see Josh, tell him to stop...for me."

Selena laughed silently, bowing her head in sympathy. She wrapped Miley in another hug. "You know it's not gonna work, honey." she said with a fast rub on Mi's back.

"I know," she breathed. "Y'all deserve so much better. I'm sorry for releasing Josh on you."

Ding! Got it.

"So, how is Alex? " Mi finished.

"Good." Selena answered, growing a faint smiled. "She's, she's great. Walking and talking and everything."

"Really?" Miley broke the next hug, face full of excitement.

"Yeah. Just last month. Took her first steps, said 'hasta', upgraded from my tits." she looked to me. "Sorry, sir."

"It's fine." I replied.

"That's wonderful!" Miley gushed, smiling wide. "I'll have to come see her."

"If you're staying." Selena brought. "I don't wanna wake 'er now."

"Oh yeah," Miley said, sagging her shoulders. "I'm visiting Mum."

"I figured as much."

Mi thought for a second and blinked hard. "You know, I'll just be back in an hour; it won't take long."

"Okay," Selena agreed. "See ya, Des."

"Bye, Sel."

Miley sighed when Selena was far enough down the street "God, bless her heart."

We resumed our walk down Woodridge to house 75. It looked just like all the rest of the houses apart from the purple, plastic-carved _STEWART_ on the windowsill. It seemed to a pot the way dead sunflowers lazed out of it and water slid from the sides. Beside that was the front door, backed by a dirty, mesh, screen door. Both were transparent enough to see the hall inside. It looked like an elderly woman's home. And that it _almost_ was.

Miley took a deep breath going up to the porch and I laid a reassuring palm on her back. "Okay," she breathed.

_Ding-dong._

Mi swung on her toes and I felt a poke of deja vu. I wondered if her mother would look the way I did when I opened my door.

A tall, blonde figure approached at the door and peered out the window. One big blue eye, just like Miley's. The woman swung both doors back and scanned us up and down. "Miley," she said, wearing surprise. She made the words happily but her lips couldn't work it. "...Where've you been?"

Miley shrugged a little. "Places," she breathed, uncomfortably.

Her mother took a difficult moment to register that and then pushed the doors way open. "Well, come on in. The boy, too."

Miley held a breath in her chest and entered in front of me.

Inside the house was creepier than the front. Grey walls on either side of us almost squished our bodies together and the paintings of dying tulips and cherubs didn't help cure my discomfort. The long, thin rug we walked along felt rough, even in my socks. I could feel the red pearls coming undone beneath my feet. One flinch and rug would tear to white mesh.

We came to the little sitting area (a P-shaped room with two sofas and a coffee table in the rounding) and Miley's mother let us sit. This place looked just like the hall.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

I shook my head once. "No, thank you." I said.

"Well, I'm gonna go get some snacks." Mrs. Stewart said and left the room.

I took this time to look over the space. Typical living area: plants, trinkets, a huge window. But no television. I guessed she either read or had a set upstairs.

She returned a long moment later with a tea-plate filled with little cookies and a steaming teapot. "Miley, would you like some?" she asked, sitting down diagonal from us in a loveseat.

"No, Mom." Mi said.

I watched Mrs. Stewart pour the dark liquid into a mug and settle in. "...So," she piped.

"Uhh, hi," Miley spoke.

"Hi,"

"Uhh," Miley scratched her hair. Awkward. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." she let a breath go.

"Not bad," her mother answered, nodding. "You?"

"_Good, _actually." she replied with a smile, lacing her tiny fingers in mine. Miley looked at me lovingly and corrected herself. "_Really_ good."

"Good."

We sat there awkwardly as Mrs. Stewart...er...Mrs...Miley's mom sipped from her cup. Her mother had figure and air about her just like Miley. She looked twenty-two and forty at the same time without her smile. She'd wore a white romper that day with flip flops and easily illuminated the room. She constantly had a hand running through her hair—thinner and flatter than my girlfriend's- and on her fingers were tons of rings.

"So, uhh, you two been livin' together?" she came again. "I wouldn't expect my baby to be sleeping on the street for five weeks. And Josh hasn't seen ya."

"Yes." I answered the question, nodding a single time.

"Oh," she said, nodding back.

The doors creaked opened and in walked a huge fellow. I was guessing this was the _other man_ Miley spoke of. She didn't look happy.

"Hey, kid." greeted the man.

"Hi, Mike." she replied flatly.

The man sauntered over to her mother and gave her a kiss. Mi looked away in disgust as her mom giggled like a school girl after him. My heart went out her. Mike broke the kiss and wrapped an around around her mum. He squeezed her unromantically and spoke. "So, Susan, you told Miley?"

Miley looked at him surprised. "Told me what?"

The man sat down the arm of Susan's chair and eyed his girlfriend like she'd failed. A 'hurry up, you shoulda done this sh-t forever ago' look. He was mean and it showed.

Susan sat intimidated, struck with conflict. She looked to Miley. "Well, sweetie, um...Mike and I are starting a life together."

Miley face drew shock and disgust. "What?...Why?" she ripped. "It's been two months."

"Baby, we've talked and decided...this is right." Susan explained, growing a smile full of falsehood. "Mike and I love each other. That being said..." She sighed. "We'd like...to live alone."

Miley's eyes bugged out. The girl was being kicked out. For _Mike. _Her own mother was kicking her out. "You're kicking me out?...for _good_?" she asked, almost shouting.

Her faced changed. Offended. "Mi, it's not like you don't deserve it." Susan said back, with the attitude of people our age. "I mean, you snort coke in the kitchen."

Miley's mouth tried defence but nothing came. After a few seconds she gave it up. "So what, you already packed my bags?"

Susan picked up her cup again, using the drink as an excuse to not fight. "Upstairs. And Joshua came by with the rest of your stuff."

Mi rolled her eyes and grunted. "I hate this." she mumbled.

"What was that?" Susan came, warningly. I was confused as to what she was. A kid or a mom?

"I hate you!" Miley shouted, standing up and tearing her hand from mine. "I hate you and I hate your stupid boyfriend and I hate Josh and I hate this town! You know, fuck everything!" she yelled.

"Destiny..."

"Don't call me that! Dad named me that, not you! You're nothing to me!" she made completely clear, busting eardrums in the process. "I hope you and Mike live a long f-cking miserable life together. F-cking teach you to toss your daughter out for a guy. ...Y'know not _just_ a guy. A guy who treats you sh-t and destroyed your family right beside you-"

"Miley..." Susan tried again, sterner.

"You know it's true! You know you gave it all up for him. I did the same thing to us with Josh, but at least _I_ smartened up."

"By _what_? Running away with another guy. In case you haven't _smartened up _enough, it's the same thing."

"No it f-cking isn't! Nick's not an _idiot _and I'm not a dumb b-tch."

"Mi_ley,_" I reached for her hand, seeing how close she'd gotten to her mom.

Her head whipped my direction and I saw how horrifyingly dark her orbs were. She was ready to kill somebody.

She let out a loud, frustrated "Ugh!" and stormed up the stairs, professing her f-cking hatred for everything the whole way.

"Hey! Next time watch your mouth, young lady!" Mike yelled after her.

"Next time watch your fucking d-ck!"

And she slammed the door to what could have been her room.

- x. 0. x -

I knocked on the door several minutes later. Mike and Susan and had began an argument in the kitchen about Miley being a brat, and I was left alone in the sitting room tapping my foot to the awkwardness. I figured I'd see if Mi was okay after she cooled down.

"Are you Nick?" she asked muffled from the other side of the door.

"Yes,"

"...Come in."

I opened the door and shut it behind me and Miley laid, feet dangling, on the bed, a pillow over her face. So me six weeks ago.

I came over and sat down. I lifted the pillow off her face. "I love you." I said.

She smiled at me stupidly, and then took my shirt, pulled me down softly and kissed me.

She sighed after, still troubled. "This blows." she whispered.

I put a hand on her tummy. "You still have me." I promised, touching her nose with mine.

She sighed again."I know." She sat herself up and I gave her space. "It just...my dad was everything you are. He was smart and ambitious, and shy."

She put her hands on her knees and I re-noticed how beautiful she was. "He loved music and hated failure and he always tried to balance who he was pleasing."

I was not nearly this great.

"I just," she said, using her hands now. "I don't get why she took that for granted. I mean, I took everything for granted, too, but I was a kid. I was stupid. I didn't think I was gonna miss everything so much." she confessed. "...I'd do it all again, and she wouldn't."

I nodded understandingly.

And then silence.

"You know the rocking chair at your house?"

I bobbed my head again and she pointed to the same thing in the corner.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah,"

I swallowed down the urge to hug her so soon. "You miss your dad?" I asked as quietly as she spoke.

She nodded, tinnily. "I miss our family." she corrected. "I miss us all being together...Jackson, and Chris, and Lilly..."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Five," she laughed. "My dad's got custody of the younger one."

I didn't want to ask why.

"Mike's a douche." She answered anyway. "And my mom's his b-tch. It's like your parents, except _your_ mom has a brain...and Mike _never_ leaves." she rolled her eyes.

"I think you should talk to her." I said.

"And what? Get told off and roughed up? I've had enough." She stood up and walked toward a brown box. "I'll have better luck sleeping on Sel's couch..._with Ben, _and he's just as bad."

What was with all these abusive men? I wanted to go home suddenly. I took the box from Mi's hands and created two towers by the door. Each box read MYLIE in chalk. Mike's work, I presume. I lifted the heavy ones and ushered her out first. "Come on, babe."

She took the others and we went downstairs carefully, hearing the older couple argue on. At the bottom of the stairs Miley paused. "Hold on," she told me and ran into the war zone. I carried on to the front door.

"Ma, where's my bracelet?"

"The gold one?"

"I wasn't asking you, Mike."

"Well, we pawned that old thing, _brat_."

"You _what?_"

"We pawned it."

"Why?"

"Why not? You were moving out."

"No, I—How could sell my bracelet? It wasn't yours!"

"Mi, you gotta let go of your father's old ass things. It's been weeks."

"Uh, I _will_ see him again, you know. He's gonna expect me to have the bracelet. I t's the _least_ I could do after taking Mom's side in court." Miley protested.

There was silence.

And then Mike spoke. "You didn't tell her about that either, did you?"

"Tell me what?"

The air around got somber and stale in that one moment. A bile taste grew in my mouth. I dropped the boxes.

"Mi...Robert died."

Oh my God. Oh...My God.

I felt like passing out.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. They had to be wrong. My shaking body prayed for them to be. Ears perked, I heard the grim, taunting sound of a tear hitting the floor, and splashing quietly as to be begging for a reverse.

I stepped forward and began to open my arms, knowing she'd need the space. The house was quiet, and Miley and Susan began whispering to each other. After two or three sentences, silence rose again.

And then Miley came rushing out, and in one instant her shoes thrust against the floor, and she pushed past me, going headlong for the exit. The door was slammed behind her in the same second and I closed my eyes. "Miley!" I called.

I went after her into the street to find her with her face down on the box, hiding, running sloppily down the sidewalk. "Miley," I called again. She kept running, throwing her box down to Selena's driveway. It hit the blue motorcycle parked in her driveway and scraped its way from there, leaving a nasty scratch.

I caught up and took her into my arms. She broke into sobs. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry." I said, rubbing her back. "I'm so sorry."

Miley continued to shake against me and the front door to house 66 opened. Ben stood behind the screen door, gazing at us, being illuminated only by the light bulb behind him. His eyes looked to the motorcycle. He gazed back. I rested my chin on Mi's head. Gave him a look. _Don't. _

But Ben had already pushed the door and charged towards us. "Stewart!" he shouted.

She looked up and my heart broke for her.

She sucked on her bottom lip.

"This your box?" he demanded, knowing very well it was. He had seen her throw it.

Mi bobbed her head. "Mhm," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"Look at my bike!" he demanded, "Look at my bike. Look what you did, dumba-s!"

"I'm sorry." she sobbed.

"Sorry isn't gonna f-cking fix it!" he yelled at her.

"Hey!" I barged in. "Relax. It was an accident."

"You don't _throw_ a _box_ at someone's motorcycle by accident."

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, sobbing. "God..."

"You're gonna be!" and he came after her. I put my arms out to stop him from advancing. "Move!" he groaned. "Move!"

His chest against my palms was hurting me. My wrists would snap any second.

He backed up and swagged from foot to foot. "Move." he breathed.

_Oh. No. _I pushed Miley behind me. "Nick," she quivered.

"Don't worry."

"F-ck it." He pushed me out of his way and from the corner of my eye I saw his fist at her face.

"No." I shouted.

I'd regret the word. Because then Ben grabbed my wrist and pushed me down. An attempt to get me grounded which failed when I brought my other hand to his gut. Hard. The rest was a blur and bevy of noises. I felt hands on my neck, ankles around mine own, Miley screaming and crying at me, a punch to my cheekbone, a groaning man. Too many. Too _much_ to just be Ben and Miley.

"Aurgh!" and one was down crouched and I finished him off with a fist to the jaw, sending him over the bike instantaneously.

"Nick!" Miley cried harder. "Nick, no! Stop! Please! You're hurting him!"

"...Son of a b-tch," Ben hissed, wiping the blood from his mouth. I blinked, clearing my hazed vision. The voice was far, I had punched somebody. But what was wriggling?

"N_ick_!" Miley bawled. "Get off of him!"

Ben tried to make words from a distance. Things became clearer and I realized I was hovering over _Josh_, my hand around his neck. I stood up straight and released. "Shit."

"What the hell—Miley!" Selena had come out, running for Ben. "What happened?"

"I...I.." she stammered breathlessly, as if she was doing the fighting. "Nick just...and...I don't know."

"Mi found out her dad died and ran out of her mom's place, dropped a box that hit Ben's _baby. _He came out yelling at her, calling her an idiot and a dumbass. He hit her and..." I paused, forgetting the rest, not understanding, thinking only about what would've happened had he hit her again, had Josh shown up when he did and hit her, too. My stomach seized at the thought "...Oh, you guys are sick."

"Really?" Ben spat, shooting up.

"Ben, don't." Selena ordered. "They're just kids." she held her arms out to block him.

I looked around, and the street was sprinkled with shocked children. Miley stood by the electricity box, head in her hands, shaking it over and over. "Oh my God, oh my God," she repeated.

"Miles," Josh said softly, waltzing over to her. He put a hand in her hair and soothed. "Baby, I'm sorry."

She pushed him away harshly. "Get away from me."

"What?" he played innocent and my gut churned. "Baby, I was try'na to help you. I thought he was gonna—"

"Just STOP!" she screamed. "Just. Stop. You have _nothing_ but _ruin_my life! You have done _no_ protecting. _Ever_." she began cry again. "Just...get away from me. Please."

"Step away, Josh." Selena aided, helping Ben up.

He did very reluctantly.

"It's over." Sel decided, sternly. "This fight. It's over."

We nodded at our elder, taking her nothing less than seriously.

She looked at us. "I think you should go home." she said quietly.

Miles nodded, going over to me and taking my hand.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Miley laid, head on my lap, undisturbed by the bumps in the road. The sun was setting in the sky and we bought two slices of pizza (none of which we'd ate), and decided on taking the bus up to Main St. and head home from there.

Again, in an otherwise unoccupied three-seater, we sat wordless. My hand took minutely trips through her hair and once in a while she'd "Hmmm," and say nothing else. The bus was pretty much silent; only say fifteen people aboard. Most were elderly and some then some others with earbuds. It was the perfect getaway.

Mi rolled over to meet me eye-to-eye and brought her hand up to my face. She moaned, teeth clenched

and the air brushed against my shirt.

"I'm sorry about your face." she whispered.

I laughed to myself, shrugging it off. "It's okay," I said. My skin begged to differ. "I'm sure it'll heal in no time."

She smiled softly back at me, liking the response. "Black eyes are sexy, you know." She joked, caressing my cheek.

I'd laughed again. "How?"

She swallowed, taking my hand and closing hers around it. "Well...it's a survivor bruise. You saved me out there. You put your life in danger for mine."

"My _life_..."

"Yes. Yes, your life. Those two guys could _kill_ you. Trust me. You're lucky Josh was drunk. Too drunk to get his gun or throw a fist right."

I frowned. "Are you saying I won by, like,..._default_?" I came, face screwed.

"No," she said, and I could feel the honesty off of her. "You won because it's what God wanted." She paused. "You weren't meant to die tonight."

I looked at her eyes. Sad, serious, admirable, blue. "You weren't meant to die either."

She held a sigh in her nose. She released. "Nick, I've had many ungodly hours. I would not be surprised the Lord struck me down now." She rolled to her back, sinking into her thoughts. "He'd send me up to my father, ask me why I was not more like him." she smiled small. "And then He would ask me what the _fuck_I been doing with you. Fuckin' up your life up...making you get tattoos, and run from the cops, and messin' up your grades with late night make-out sessions and porn."

"The porn was mine." I noted, going pink, trying not to laugh.

"Exactly. And it's great on a blue moon Thursday night." *sigh* "I guess I'm try'na say I'm bad for you."

"No." I interrupted. "No, Mi."

"Yes." she insisted. "What were doing before me?"

I went to answer but she wouldn't have it. "Getting straight A's, spending time with Demi, your _mom_, your _brothers_. You were perfect.

"Look at yourself. Look at yourself _now_. You've got bruises and blisters, a 65 percent average. You're 45 minutes off a _criminal record_, for Christ's sake ...Jesus, have _taken_ us _in_, yet, Nick? Do you _get_ us? This is toxic! This is bad. My father would never want this."

"_I_ want this." I protested, knowing just where this was going: a very, very sad direction. "Miley, _I_want this."

She started shaking her head.

"Mi," I grabbed her head to stop the shaking. "Mi, if there's anything I know about _anything_, it's that I've spent so much time worrying about stupid things. Being smart. Being _perfect_. Well, I've learned nobody is "smart" and nobody is perfect and _everybody_ has ungodly hours. And if you're going to leave me because you do not showcase an illusion...I have nothing to say. I, _honestly, _only have tears for that."

Mi had tears of her own flooding behind her eyes. She chomped down on her lower lip. "Nick..." she said, "Nick, you're just one more thing to be taken from me."

"I'm not going anywhere." I promised, voice going dry. "Nobody is taking me anywhere. And if they are, they're takin' me with you at my hip, I swear it."

And that's when she burst into tears.

I brought my arm around her neck and guided her upright. And then I held her. And I held her the whole way home.

- x. 0. x -

"How ya feelin'?" I asked her when she came in from her shower.

She nodded once and smiled softly. Adjusting her towel, she walked over to me, gave me a kiss. "Better." she answered.

I took her waist in my hands and propped her on her knees. She rested her head on my shoulder and relaxed. Peace. I looked at her face. It was beautiful, illuminated by the white cloth her body, light bouncing off her blue orbs and face like studio work.

Damn, She was flawless.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" I whispered delicately to the towel

She pressed her lips onto my neck. _"I love you"_ she said, and it came brushing against my skin, seeping into my pores. I believed it.

"Love you too." I said back.

We settled in and rocked gently, back and forth for a while on what should have been the little rocking chair but wasn't. Back and forth...back and forth, just holding each other.

In a moment she pulled up and brought her lips to mine. A soft, gentile kiss. Her lips moved lazily against mine and hardly any air was broken.

I loved it.

"Nick," she breathed.

"Yes,"

She kissed me again. This time more vigorous. Her hands found my neck and latched on, curling against my hair. "Mmm," she groaned, airy. She tried to kiss me again but grew tired, so she collapsed on my chest and groped my shirt. Biting her lip again—harder than ever—tears welled up in her eyes. She whimpered.

"What's wrong?" I soothed, rubbing her arm with my hands. "Baby..."

She sniffled and dug her face into my chest. Holding my hands again she whispered, "Promise me forever."

I split my lips. _No._ Words couldn't explain how I felt about her. How I wanted her around until my dieing breath...and only my dieing breath because her watching me pass would far too much for the both of us.

Instead, I lifted my arms from her and tended to my ring. I slipped it off my finger and lowered it to her, pushing it down on her thumb: the only place it would fit. I brought that same thumb to me and kissed it, nice and slow. "I promise." I spoke.

She sighed lovingly, never moving her face. She could feel the ring, my words, my heart. She could feel it all. And that's all I could ever ask for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey, guys. I got 380 hits last chapter and 3 reviews. You Ghost Readers are creeping me out. For real ._. I am glad you're reading, though; it makes me happy. Just show me you're..._alive_ once in a while, Okay? lol.**

**OT: MY BIRTHDAY'S NEXT THURSDAY! :DD Imma be 16 up in this shit! BEWARE! LOLjkjk. But still, I'M EXCITED!**

**Anyway, thanks again for reading, beautiful. *hand heart***


	17. Chapter Sixteen

The next day I would miss school. I wake up, make Miley some pancakes, and we 'cuddle' watching children's programming. At noon we'd take the subway and then a bus to Taryn Ave. where the Woodridge cemetery was.

A noticeable, fresh green swayed cocksure against the other less-vibrant greens ahead. The one new 6 foot patch of grass in the center head by a headstone. We approached.

_**ROBERT R. STEWART**_

A tear streamed down Miley's face and she laughed, playing the stone quote over in her head. She dropped her flowers and bent down, crushing the untouched grass.

_Nobody's been here_, it came to me. April 22nd he'd died and nobody had been here. No flowers, no sneaker prints, not a single mascara stain on the rock. Nothing.

Robert was forgotten like a breath.

"Hey, daddy..."

- x.0.x -

"All right, class, that is...twenty-_one_ assignments. Two hundred and fifty-two pages." My professor paced the room, over-enunciating all of his words. He paused. "How many pages are we missing, class?"

_Damn you._

"Twelve pages, sir." the class rang. I felt sick to my stomach. I had chimed so many times before, embarrassing many students. Stupid brown-nosers.

"Lucas!"

_Damn._

"Where's your assignment?"

"Uhh...well, see—"

_Brriingg! _and the bell had rung, saving my butt. My classmates spilled out into the halls, giving me room to blend and escape...

Only not quite.

The professor spoke again, this time with exhaust. "Lucas." He traveled back to his little desk in the corner and watched me.

I spun reluctantly on my heels, eyes squeezed shut. "Yes?"

"You're failing."

"I'm _what!_" I spat, my eyes shooting open.

"In _other _respects," he tightened, hating my reaction. "Mrs. Hammerstein would like to see you at 4:15. Do not be late. Do not skip." he shut his binder and handed me a white slip. "Dismissed," and he left.

- x. 0. x -

I sat for four minutes watching the clock before the woman greeted me somberly.

"Glad you could make it." She took a seat at the middle of the conference table and sat her big red book of statuses down. She combed her loose, black hairs up with her fingers and took a glance to her left and a glance to her right. There—on the left—sat some older men, one being Mr. Smith: the man who had called me on my partial-scholarship. And on the right were older women—two of them being Mrs. Ernes. The other being Ms. Munro. I fought every urge to wave hello and ask her about Demi.

As Hammerstein opened her book of death, the door opened.

_Mom_ walked in, looking half-frazzled.

I looked the same.

"Take a seat, Mrs. Lucas."

My mother sat down next to me and we both stared across to Hammerstein.

"I feel one parent is enough here," she said, flipping the pages. She looked to me. "_And necessary_."

I cleared my throat and nodded.

"So, Nicholas," began Mr. Smith, starting to twirl a pen. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." I said, trying a smile.

"Really?" he countered, "Because I had originally scheduled this meeting for yesterday, but it seems you were absent. You're never absent." he cocked a brow. "...Do you wish to reevaluate your answer?"

My hands sweat. "Um, no sir."

"Then tell me why you missed your classes yesterday. There doesn't _seem_ to be family emergency."

I froze. What was I to say?

"Let's talk your grades." Smith came again after receiving no answer. "You've fallen an average of twenty per cent. Why is that?"

Nothin'.

"Your police check: possession of drugs, impaired driving..."

"Okay—"

"Nicholas, this is not the man I gave this scholarship to."

"Nick," I heard my mother. "Nick, do we need to rethink the company you're keeping?"

"No!" _Stop. Make it stop!_ "No, no. I just...screwed up. I'm growing up, I'm making mistakes. It's no biggie, I swear."

"I'd like to believe that Nick," said Smith. "But then came the Woodridge ordeal."

_The—What the fuck? Already?_

"Yes...we know." Hammerstein answered my face.

"This behavior is completely unacceptable. It will _not_ be tolerated here at Harvard University by any student...no matter _what_ age."

"I know."

"So why is it happening?"

I was silent. Nothing worth saying here.

"Will you pass the final examinations next week?" was the next question Smith tossed at me.

_Exams? Next week? It's June?...Oh, right, right. 'Cause it was May, and the festival, and now it's like...the fifth? Sixth? Fuck, Demi's recital. When is that? Uhhh...Sat...ur...-Wait, no. Urmm..._

"Nicholas!"

"Huh?"

"Focus!"

"I am." I almost whined. _Geez, off my back._

Smith and the man beside him sighed deeply and the noise seemed to bounce off the table.

"Mrs. Lucas, how old is Nicholas?" the unknown asked.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed by me. "He'll be 19 at the end of the month."

"18," he specified. "18, 18." he repeated. "Fresh off high school. Figuring life out, gettin' a girlfriend, working part-time, I suppose."

I shook my head and he looked away.

"I told we were taking a _risk_, Steven." he hissed.

"He's smart." Smith countered, and I got the feeling he was only defending himself.

"Yes, but is he mature? He's a _baby_. Lives with his mother, has no independent source of income, drinks 'till he's drunk and gets in the car. The street fights..."

I felt alone in this room of seven. Everyone was discussing me like I wasn't there, arguing and debating and punishing raisins with their teeth. In about 7 minutes (one minute of input for each...minus-ing me, so like two for Hammerstein and her sassy voice), they'd come to a conclusion I'd spaced out and didn't catch.

"Alright, Lucas," said the lady. "We have come to decide..."

- x. 0. x -

I whistled the tune to Miley's song twice, packing up, and in the middle of the bridge, Demi stormed in, wild eyed.

"Say it ain't so." she gasped.

I repeated helplessly."It ain't so, D."

Her eyes searched mine, hunting out the truth even with my luggage right in front of her face. I was leaving.

"No," she breathed. "No. No way. They...they...they can't. What happened? Why? _Why_?" she babbled, running a hand through her—now darker, I was noticing—layers.

I picked the letter handed to me just moments after my meeting off my desk and passed it to her. She ran through it in a few seconds and her mouth dropped.

"That's bullsh*t." she claimed. "Half the people here have charges. F*ck, Istole makeup and I'm still here."

"You're not failing your classes, Dem. And your charges are minor. Like, little stupid stuff. Look it here," I said and pointed at paragraph 3, line 2. "I'm a _'substantial threat to the student body due to' _my_ 'multiple offenses'._" I looked at her and we locked eyes. "I guess they don't like drugged up street fighters." I said with a try-hard lightsome laugh.

She smiled. "Not funny, dude."

She placed the paper down on my never-been-slept-on-since-Dad's-last-tirade-at-Christmastime bed and dusted her hands off on her jeans like the expulsion notice was contaminated.

A minute of silence and me folding clothes and Demi spoke, "So you're really leaving, huh?" She was hardly audible. I could tell me leaving was breaking her heart.

I nodded, putting khakis in the case. "But, I mean, we can still be friends. Me leaving isn't gonna change that." I promised.

She sat on the bed and sighed.

"_Soooo?_" The subject needed to change. "What's goin' on with you? We haven't talked in forever."

She '_Ha_'d breathlessly. "Three days is a lot for us."

"Yeah," I smiled, tending to a textbook on the dresser. "...How you are you and Knight?"

I looked Demi through the mirror. Face fallen, biting her lip as to destroy it.

_Oh no._

Playing with her hands, her head shook. "He dumped me."

"He _what_?" I saw it coming in the beginning, but now, so far along, hearing her say it? It was crazy. "What are you talking about? He's crazy about you. He loves you. He _dumped _you?"

She was nodding over and over again. I stopped what I was doing and made my way over.

She slowed her bobbing and crawled up to the wall, sitting against it. Her face was already streaked with black tears, chest rising and falling in no rhythm. I sat down with her.

"...Yup," she answered, hugging her knees.

"Was it—?"

"Yea,"

Tuesday.

"What happened? Wh-what changed?" It was my turn to babble.

She wiped her nose with the back of her precious hand and pulled her phone out with the other. Eight key clicks later she showed me the phone. A skinny little blond graced the screen in a school-spirited outfit. Two pom-poms and baton sat under her arm and brilliant smile.

"Courtney Tyne?" I almost hurled. "He _dumped_ you for Courtney _Tyne_?"

Demi shook her head. "It was one night." she murmured. She retracted and put the phone back. She laughed of pain and shrugged her shoulders. "She's pregnant." came the squeak.

I froze. "No."

My friend nodded.

"No." I gasped again.

"Yes, Nick, yes!" Her hands came down to back up the truth. "Dammit!" She ran them through her hair roughly and then grunted in distress, learning the action was useless. "Why am I never enough? Am I ugly or something?"

"No, no no _no_." I said quickly, and soon after and felt like my tongue would fall off. "No. No, D," I slowed down. "You're- You're beautiful."

"Mmn,"

She disagreed.

"You _are_." I insisted, sliding my hand through her hair. I held my breath, thinking. _Ways to comfort Demi._"...You know...Knight...those guys, they don't know you like I do." I said. "They don't know just how beautiful you truly are. And they're missing the fuck out, girl." She smiled slightly, looking humored. "I mean it." I ran my tongue across the bottom of my molers, put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into me. My mind had ran wild with thoughts. Bad thoughts, sad thoughts, angry thoughts, crazy thoughts. "Damn," I hissed. "...if we were dating...you'd be my queen. You would never feel short of pretty. Ever." I tried to laugh.

Demi began to snuggle. "Hmm,"

"You'd be my everything."

"...And you'd be mine." she said with a smile.

And suddenly it all felt sincere. We looked at each other. Stared onto each other eyes.

I gave her smile.

And I still couldn't tell you in that moment what came over her, but she took that smile right onto her mouth. She kissed me. Demetria Munro kissed me. And I half-sat/half-lied there with my eyes wide open. She was puckering, expecting a kiss back...until she'd realized what the f-ck she was doing.

When she did, her eyes flew open and we met for real. Her lips stationed. Horrified.

We stared, and this time, not a good stare. A "_we just crossed the line, and by 'we', I mean you"_ stare.

_Need. Air._

"Oh. My. God." she huffed each word. At least she could do it. Breathe, I mean. "Oh my God. ...Oh my _God!_"

"Demi..."

"Oh my God. My God, I'm so sorry-"

"It's ok-"

"Huh..huh..." She breathed, loosing her heartbroken mind in a flood of hot tears, pushing her hair from her face and leaving her hands there to keep her brain in one. "Huh..."

"Demi..." I eased.

"Oh my God." and she broke down on the floor, sobbing and bawling and shaking in a G.

"Shit,"

All this deja vu.

"Demi?" I got off the bed gingerly and squat down to her. "Baby, it's okay." I pulled an arm out to help her off the floor and caught sight of her retracting sleeve. Scars.

Cuts.

"Demi, what the fuck." I burst, dropping her arm and watching her shoulder flop back down.

She went silent. She knew.

"Demi," I shot, demanding an explanation right that moment.

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I spat. She knew how much-too-diagonal those cuts were. "You're sorry? You-You're," I sprung up from my heels and rambled. "You're going to be sorry when you're dead, Demi. When there's a f*cking _corpse_ under your blankets. And a puddle of blood. Like, what the fuck! Cutting? Again! Are you nuts?" I quit shaking my finger. "_Dammit_, D!"

"Stop _yelling_ at me!" she cried, shooting her head up.

"Stop cutting yourself!"

There was a bang on the floor above and collection of laughter. I looked up. _Ugh, jocks. _Demi took my absence to ran into the bathroom and slam the door behind her. The _boom!_ set me back to reality.

"Demiiii,"

"Go away!"

Why was she being so difficult? Like I don't have other stuff going on. "Demi, if I come back and you're dead..." I paused, pursing my lips in frustration. "You're _more_ dead!" And I stormed out of there.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

The next thing I knew it was Saturday. "La, la, la, la, la, la, laaaa" all over the place as I walked into the green room. Dark red walls, soft black carpet, little white sofas with singers and dancers and musicians. White paper in Tahoma font read "VOCALISTS" on the north-west corner, "MUSICIANS" on the north-east corner, and "DANCERS" in the south (I'm guessing there were a lot of them.)

I scanned the room of people getting their makeup done. No Demi.

Fantastic.

I peered again and spotted Knight and Courtney canoodling on a couch. He had his man hands rubbing her tummy and his face in the groove of the neck, whispering sweet nothings. The asshole. I swallowed down the waste building in my throat alongside my pride and approached. Knight looked up at me when I was arm's-length and stood from Courtney. He looked concerned.

"Uh...have you heard from Demi?" he asked, low in the voice.

I shook my head. "Not since Thursday afternoon." I replied. He nodded, disappointed.

"'Kay," he whispered...and sat back down.

Got my answer. MIA. I used this moment to text Miley, not bothe ring to move to please Tyne. Not bothering at all.

_Mi, D's mia. meet me lionel hall in 2 mins. dorm search._

I shoved my phone into my pocket and picked up the pace. Each step down the hall brought further realization. Uh, Demi's missing. Demi is _missing_. _Demi'ssssss missingggg_. By the damn time I was outside I was frantic with Knight at my side. "Dammit!" I cursed to the darkness. This almost starless sky made things just great. "Where is Miley?"

"Nick?" The second I felt her warmth I yanked her with me. We ran. Right into the dormitory, dress shoes propelling against the tile. _Squeak-doom, squeak-doom, squeak-doom._

"Where does she live?" Miley asked when we hit the intersection of hallways.

"13-B," I panted, and pulled her along soon after. Down another hall, we reached D's room.

I shook the knob. Nothing. "It's locked." I stated and squat down to the baseboard. I nudged my fingers between the board and the wall and clipped something metal. I pulled the key out. "Okay." A perfect fit for the door and we bust in. "Demi?"

"Demi?"

"De_mi!_"

"D. Love,"

"D?"

"Hello?"

"Demi." Too much echo. She wasn't here. I took a peer into the bathroom. Spotless. Walking behind the door we came, I caught a semi-clear bag. Dry cleaning. I lift it off the hook and took a look. A pretty red number. I flung it over my shoulder after reading the tag and headed for the door. "Come on."

"Where?"

"There's one more place she could be."

- x. 0. x -

It took a bobby-pin from Miley's hair to open the door to my old room, not yet re-occupied. The lights were still on, the bed was still crinkled...just the as we left it. "Demi?" I called. A light still shun through the bathroom door, I noticed. "Demi?" I called again toward it. I went over and knocked on the door. A doom and a scuffle happened inside. My heart skipped. I shook the knob and reused the hair pin.

The door creaked open, exposing a thrown off Demi, sitting against the wall, using the toilet paper on the dispenser as a headrest in the same clothes as Thursday. Adjacent to her was the toilet, wide open with upchuck down the sides. It was around the seat, too, laced with blood. She looked at me, opened her mouth, and nothing came.

"Mi, get her some water."

In a few minutes D had drank enough to clear the emesis from her throat. I didn't want to ask the questions I knew the answers to. Mi and Knight stuck around and at 7:25 I knew he'd missed Courtney. What a beautiful dance to Purple Rain it must have been.

"Are you going on tonight?" he asked D, standing at the doorframe.

She looked down on the floor, running her fingers in the tile creases.

"You need this," I reminded her. It was bad enough _one_ of us was dropped from Harvard U.

She put a hand to her tummy and licked her lips. "You're right." She stood up and heaved a sigh. "...Give me the dress."

- x. 0. x -

"Ladies and Gentlemen, preforming a rendition of Leonard Cohen's _Hallelujah_, the Radcliffe Choral Society."

Joe sank into his fist the fiftieth time, gave me a look that said You Owe Me For Life. Poor guy looked like his brain would explode any minute.

Courtney appeared in a black suit, sang _Hallelujah_ to a T with her classmates and walked off, brilliant grin intact. All that remained was Demi, in an apt red gown.

"Woo!" I yelped. A few others imitated and whistled a construction worker's whistle.

Miss Demi smiled and sat down at the grand piano. She adjusted her mic, pressed down her loose hairs and looked out into the crowd.

"Hi," echoed throughout the golden theater.

More _woo_'s, but this time quieter. She was going to speak.

"Uh, I'm Demi...and, uh, this is a son—_piece_ I wrote a few weeks ago." she said, "It's called Skyscraper. And it's about looking...looking up from the edge of rock bottom, seeing there is still so much in your grasp...if you could only get up." she laughed, airless, almost sarcastic. "You know, the sky is always the limit, people say. Reach for the top. Reach for the sky." Another laugh. "I realized the closest you are _ever_ going to get the sky is by standing." The crowd clapped and screamed, giving D props on her analogy. "All though, I don't think I've learned that yet." she confessed, "I've got a couple broken windows, a frame I feel I can't fit, and a _truckload_ of ungodly hours." she looked down at the keys, butterfly kissing the microphone like a shy lover every so often. "But rock bottom can just as easily be the beginning, as it can the end. And that is what this song's about."

She began to sing with her crackled voice and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. By the second chorus she was crying and most of the room was clapping along to the invisible beat. By the D5 the in the final 30, the crowd was wild. Acquaintances of Knight were taking their napkins and straws, folding them into roses-in Miley's every move—and throwing them at the foot of the piano. D hit her last chord and smiled onto her adoring new fans.

"Thank you," she said. "Thanks a lot." When the crowd didn't die, she stood, bowed and waved at us.

We smiled. Yup, she would be just fine.

- x. 0. x -

"Thank you," Demi beamed for the thousandth time at a stranger. They walked away.

"D!" I called and ran over for a hug. "Oh," I squeezed. "You were so good."

"Mrhh," she responded, squished into me. I released.

"Me _too_." whined Miley, wanting a hug from Demi.

She assented.

In a while she let go and looked at me. "I'm sorry for kissing you."

"No problem."

"And crying on your floor."

"No problem."

"And I threw up in the toilet."

"I know," I said hard.

"I should get help for that."

"Yes, you should." I confirmed. "But _first_," I flung my arm around her shoulder and the other around Mi's waist. "Celebration. On me."

"Wait," Demi stopped and crouched from me. "Um, I just wanna talk to Knight for a second. I'll be outside in five. Popcorn, yogurt-covered pretzels and _Bruno_ at your house?"

"Sure."

"Alright."

And in 6 minutes she was out, smiling from ear-to-ear, in sweat with her dress in a bag and a certificate baring the Harvard shield.

"Is this not the best night ever?" she asked, jumping into the car.

"You tell us," said Joe, smiling for her.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

I woke up on the twenty-fifth to the taste of Miley's lips, sweet and naked. I smirked against her mouth and prayed the rest of her would be naked too when I opened my eyes.

"Good morning, birthday boy." she caroled, running her little hands down my chest.

"Mmrr,"

"Yes," she baby-talked. "Time for big daddy to wake up."

I laughed and could not help but open my ready eyes. I loved this woman. Even if she wasn't naked.

"Who's 19 today?" Miley sang with shoulder shrugs.

"...I am," I said weakly with a smile.

"Yayyyy—!" A kiss.

And the phone rung.

I reach over the bed side and grabbed it off the carriage. 'Talk'. "Hello?"

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

_Oh no_.

"aaaaaaaaa-py Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you," Demi sang, "Happy birthday, dear, NICHOOOOOLLLLAAAAAAASSSSSSS !" badly on purpose, "Happy birthday toooooo...YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU—"

"Okay, D!" I snapped.

"Sorry," she apologized. "So, how's it feel to be one of the big dogs?"

I snorted. "Great."

"Ah, sweet." she beamed. "So, uhh, when's the party?"

"Aren't you in treatment?"

"What's _that_ supposed mean?" she said. "I can't have a good time?"

"_'_Course not." I laughed. "...See you at 8 then, kay, D?"

"Alright."

We hung up.

I looked to Miley. "So what, no breakfast?" I reached over and took her, tickling her body all over. "Huh? Huh? No breakfast, huh?"

"Ahahahhahahah, Nick, stop, stop! You're too old for tickling. Damn it!" She'd cried, slapping the air.

- x. 0. x -

Later in the day, Miley and I returned home with the party supplies. We entered laughing at a UK report told on the radio and dropped our bags on the kitchen island. I spotted Joe there, too, alongside a new centerpiece. He was...upset.

"Joe," I spoke cautiously. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing,"

I sighed. "Come on, man." I edged...but nicely. I hated it when he did this.

He huffed a sigh, defeated. He gazed up at me. "Her dad dumped me."

I'm sorry, what?

"...Her dad," I said, making sense of this statement. "Dumped you."

He'd nodded.

Give it a moment. "...Whaat?" I spat aloud, still unable to process.

"He called me," He explained slowly, raising the phone on the counter. "And broke up with me."

"For Antoinette."

"No, for himself. He hates me."

"Sooo, what about _Antoinette_? She has no say?" I asked.

Joe rolled his brown eyes. Clearly I didn't get it. "Antoinette is this princess. She doesn't think for herself. She just gets locked up at home, bombarded with _tradition _and_ expectations_. And obviously, I'm not apart of that."

It was then I was reminded of the monarchy I had so easily forgotten with Mi. There was still standard wedged in there. And Joe...errr...

A sigh and he fell his head on table. "I miss Europe."

_So do I, buddy. So do I._

Miley walked over and soothed Joe with her hands while I went over to the fridge to store the drinks and alcohol [if your dad's very familiar with Dale (this would involve $35 and a baggy of heroin), you're good for whatever you want. New York is Canada.]

"What'd he say?" I heard my girlfriend ask Joe.

A post-it on the side door was the next thing I noticed.

_Honeys, went to the DMV with your father. There's money for pizza and snacks on the toaster oven. Nick, remind Joe to get the cake at 6. Mom._

"...I didn't know what I thinking, I had no brain..."

I approached the toaster oven and saw two cards. One credit, one Hallmark. I smiled. Ma knew Joe wouldn't read the post-it note. I took the credit card and unfolded the greeting. Reading the lengthy sentiments on age, responsibility and unconditional love (an obvious apology for taking my car _and_ a hard slap on the wrist for getting kicked out of school) I shoved and kept it in my pocket. I would read this again on a bad day.

"You need to tell the girl you love how you feel."

I'd zoned back into Miley's pep-talk for Joe.

He nodded and thought.

"Come on, Mi," I egged, trying to get away from the heartbreak circling my brother. "We gotta get going."

"Yeah," agreed Joe for her. "Sorry for downing your birthday." he said to me.

"It's all good." I replied. _Smile tonight or leave._

- x. 0. x -

"Happy Birthday!" Demi shouted, shoving a box to my face.

"Aww, thanks." I let her in and shut the door.

She pranced over to the sofa, on beat to the music with the gift and sat. "Op-an it!" she napped, shoving it to my face again when I turned around.

God, pushy, pushy. Luckily, the music was loud and the other 17—_on time—_ guests weren't too bothered- they of which I did not know, but apparently I was 'badass' to them so that's cool with me.

I took the box and tore off the wrapping paper, all childlike. Inside was a T-shirt and another box. I pulled out the t-shirt, read "1 Year Stupider". "Demi, oh my goodness." I laughed.

"Turn it around."

I did. "...And still hotter than your ex? De_mi_."

"What?"

"It's hilarious." I said and swapped my shirt in a jiffy.

Miley soon came around with drinks and eyed me. She laughed. "Cute shirt."

I spun.

"Hahahahah!" she hooted. "De_mi!_" She knew the culprit.

"Is it not true?"

She smirked and took my hands and looked into my eyes, very fragile in love. "It's very true."

We kissed.

"Annndd, the other gift." eased D, with the next smaller box to my face.

"Ooh!" I spread the folds. "A mini bat." I beamed.

"For your collection of life-size bats." she nodded.

"Aww," I repeated and hugged her sitting body. "Thank you."

The song playing off somebody took a stutter through a techno beat and I caught Joe descending the stairs, eying my party. He approached me. "Interesting friends." He murmured and went straight for the kitchen.

"Sooo? Miiii?" I crooned.

"Mm'hmm?"

She was playing with me. Why?

"What's, uhh—?"

Joe returned noisily with a handful of pretzels and plopped next to Demetria. "Hey,"

"Hey,"

Okay.

No tension.

Cool.

"I'll get some ice."

A half-hour past and the crowd had chilled. The music had chilled, the room was chill. 10:15 and my parents still were not home from the DMV. Miley sat crossed-legged in her pretty peach cocktail dress, I stood, subconsciously fixing coasters on her coffee table, and Joe and D were in their own little world, talking the wonders she would explore at the NY Horizon Treatment Centre.

My song started to play (a number about meeting someone special in this _very _city) and I took Miley's soft hands into my own. She knew. "May I have this dance?"

She smiled and nodded.

We hit the floor and began a soft rock. My hands slid down on her hips and her arms 'round my neck.

I snuck my hands further behind her and grabbed my wrist to keep her in place. "So," I mused again seductively, my thumbs brushing the small of her back. "What'd you get me?"

She shifted her arms left and we turned, light on our feet. "Something special." she grinned and blushed.

"Like—?"

She hushed. "It's a surprise."

_No guff_. I held her close to me, rocking at the beat of chorus.

She mouthed every word to the shoulder my shirt and soon enough she lifted my hand from her waist and brought it up to her chest. I swallowed a groan.

She started pushing my fingers down the top of her bodice and let me feel a little. Lace. Lots of it. And thin, almost another layer of broken skin, all lace. This surely didn't cover her. I was positive I would see her perfect breasts even with the lights off.

Mi pulled my fingers out and smirked like a seductress.

"Mi," I nearly whimpered.

The backdoor swung opened and my parents stepped in, clouding anger from the kitchen. The guests didn't mind, too absorbed in their own convos. But I saw.

Paul and Denise were quiet, angrily whispering amongst one another. Daddy had lifted his hand in the air a few crossed times but never swung and Mommy hissed and motioned for him to gain control—for my sake. Selfless, stupid woman.

_My God.._

Mommy said something one more and Daddy grabbed her hand, dragged her upstairs without any acknowledgment of the guests.

I sighed of relief. Safe. _Fuck him and go to sleep_. I begged.

"Hm?" Mi perked, noticing my troubled face. She hadn't seen.

I shook my head. "Nothing." I promised, kissing her to distract. They weren't going to ruin my birthday. Everything was perfect for once.

I tilted my head for a better kiss and brought my hands down on her ass. She suppressed a giggle and went stiff when I squeezed. She grabbed my neck again, pushing our bodies together as I wandered around for a little more thin garments. Jesus, was she even wearing anything?

I stopped the kiss for some under 100F air and she smirked. Shit, that lip bit would murder me.

"Um," _*clear throat* you sound like a woman_. "Is that the present?" I squeaked.

She nodded.

Okay, knees, don't fail me. I swallowed nothing. Air. _Shit. _I dove back into the kiss, hands circuiting her body like monster, desperate to not let her catch up. My tongue ran the edges of her lip in due time and she groaned the sexy way she did, letting me in. I traced her waist around her panties, wanting to shred them and pushed her to the steps, my tongue dominant, never breaking our kiss, tasting her mouth.

This woman was an expert, climbing our stairs backwards, pleasing me, ignoring the "W'hooo!" around her...her sexy, sexy body.

_Control yourself._

In moments we were on the outside of my room, thrusting tongues against the door.

"Mmm,"

Jesus, I could take her right there. I grasped the knob and picked her up on me to keep her from falling inside. I pushed the door open and slammed it, throwing us against the closet wall with a second. "Uh," I gasped for air to find I was pulsing. Blood ran through me like a heedless cargo and I found my own heedless cargo wanting to hit Miley's leg. I was so hard. I let it happen, wrapping my mouth around hers once again, gasping multiple times only to get the kisses hotter and wetter each go.

She moaned, hiked her legs up and shook her heels off, pushing closer-further to get where I wanted to be: locked at her sex.

Mi pulled away, looked at me. Her eyes seared. She'd bowed, almost nervous, and pulled the dress over her head.

She was naked. Tossed it to the floor.

Covered with nothing but broken lace she was beautiful. Seraphic. Her perky breasts, pretty pink nipples—ready to break the thin fabric and play. Her diaphragm wanted kisses, too, rising and falling out at me. I wanted to touch. Where to begin? I decided and started kissing...licking every naked piece of her diaphragm up.

She moaned again, her back arching as I butterfly kissed that sexy little collarbone of hers and slid down on her panties. She whimpered a please and grabbed my hair, letting me kiss up the side of neck and earn and more area. I hooked my fingers over the waistline of her panties and...decided to tease, letting go and feeling her wetness through the lace. Another whimper and she and my fingers were soaked. I broke the panties from the bottom with my fingers alone and rubbed. "Nick," she mewled, arcing more. I nuzzled into her, pulsing again and circling harder, and bit down. She shook under me, soaking the both us.

"Ni—" she gasped and pushed me from my shoulders. She grabbed the hem of my top and pulled it over my head. "I thought you said you were a virgin." she panted, stunned.

"I am," I smirked and kissed her, picking her up from the wall and carrying her to the sheets. I let loose and dropped down with her. The mattress bounced under her. "I just," I started, kissing and licking the hickey I'd pierced over her. "Want it to be special,": a mutter. I straightened my arms to stay over her body and looked at her face. She was fazed. She thought a curse word and roped me in, attacking my mouth. I gave through and followed, dragging my hands over my head for proximity.

Mi began tracing my upper-body, grazing the hairs down my biceps, lining my breasts, pressing down on my nipples with her thumbs. I parted and moaned her name, getting harder in every place. Her hands made it down to my pants and fumbled with the button, my throbbing boner making it difficult. A _'pop'_ and I free, just as she yanked my pants down to my calves. I kicked them the rest of the way down and she continued with my shorts, spanking me first with the waistband.

Bitch.

Dropping the briefs, she paused to admire me, took an extra long look at my manhood. I almost blushed.

"Shit," she swore.

I was only 5 ¾ inches...or at least the last time I checked I was.

"Mi," I whispered through the darkness, thinking of something.

She gazed up. God, her eyes. I kissed her lips, then her jaw, going down all over, pressing against her down there. She moaned and arced again and I unclasped her frontal, releasing her. Sweet Lord. I moist my lips and went after her, devouring her breasts. She made an 'Ahhh' and I just about ready to thrust into her. I slid back down to her panties and made a husky breath outward, pushing them down to her ankles, her legs bending upward to help.

"Mi," I groaned.

"Oh," she reached out to the side table and grabbed a box. Condoms...with a bow.

I took a break and we fumbled with the box, both of us ripping it open and tearing the foil sloppily in unison. There was shreds of Trojan all the side of us but we didn't give. Mi hand's left for moment and circled my dick, rolling the condom and jacking at the same time. Man, was she good. Faster. Harder. "Mi," I croaked, just about having enough to spill me much too soon. Harder. "Mi!" I snapped, and she went faster. Faster. Faster. I blew a few curse words. "Shit!"

"Watch your mouth, mister." she teased, wrapping the base in her fingers and jacking, jacking, jacking.

"Mi_ley_," I almost whined, unable to hold it together much longer. "Shit!" and I thrust in her other hand, cumming a little. I lifted myself up concave and took her hands away from me-punishing-throwing them over her head. She giggled. I lined myself up badly and thrust. Hard. "Ah!" she yelped, learning her lesson. "Ni—God." she gasped. I pulled away.

This time, having her learned her lesson, I thrust _in_ to _feel_ her. Nice and slow. She was tight. Warm. Damp. Good. Really good. I closed my eyes and retracted.

Again. Parting her lips, feeling damp, being closed in, the shudder. Shit, this would be an addiction the way she felt. I released her hands, feeling too concentrated, and thrust...over and over and over. Mi put her hands to my back and held on, riding each movement. "Oh. Oh. Oh." each time we went up. "Faster," she requested, and who was I to deny us anything. I simply grunted and complied, going faster and faster, pleasing us.

In time we were flipped and she was riding me like the greatest stallion she ever saw.

I kissed her tummy and tickled her down from my rod. Grabbing and rubbing we made out for a hasty minute, and I reigned again, thrusting and pleasing. I'd groaned and buried myself in her shoulder, pushing harder, feeling her nails down my back to the beat of whatever song was playing downstairs. The bass picked up and so did we, Miley grabbing on for dear life, vowing my name like it was the declaration of independence.

"Miley," I hummed, so close.

"Nick," _these rights, Governments are instituted among Men..._

"Miley," I was getting sloppy.

"Nick,"

I thrust again and she closed around me, "Oh. Oh, Nick," getting wet and shudder and moaning. I lifted up and watched her face, trapped in her sweet cunt. Her mouth was a little swollen "_o_", eyes squeezed shut, chest arced for my kissing. "Ahh," she said as I continued fucking, tangling my hair with her hands, sweaty from gripping the sheets so hard. "Nick," she whined. "Nick!" she called and it sent me absolutely over. I splurted all over the lubricant and hissed her name in thank you.

The second I was through I threw myself off of her, free from her cunt and not wanting to collapse on my first time.

People say you feel tired after you make love for the first time (and every other time, but less). But nope. I was wired. I mean, the humping, the grabbing, the kissing, the yelling, all under a bass-ridden track; how do you sleep after that? I looked over to my beautiful right and caught Miley staring, her chest rising and falling just as much as mine.

She was the first to smile, her eyes real dark with lust dross. "I love you," she mouthed.

"So I was good?"

She burst out into quiet laughter. Shook her head in amusement. She _"Hmm"_d joyfully and crawled her nude butt to the edge of the bed, reaching for my shirt and shorts, one article for me and one for her.

"Hey, Mi," I said, amused, voice still groggy.

"M'm?"

"Cute tat."

I felt her blush in my own cheeks.

She reappeared with the clothes and slipped on my shirt, handing the briefs to me. I pulled the protection off—sticky—and re-clothed my private quarter.

Mi crawled closer and met my face. She smiled. "Be tired," she said.

"I'm not." I responded.

She put her finger and thumb to my eyelids, pulled down and in moments I was proved wrong. Long live the theory.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Gahh, night time. Wednesday. 11. Must sleep. Lol, but seriously, sorry for the random, but necessary, over-narrated, crazy ass sex scene. Not my forte. Won't happen again. At least not in Ungodly Hours because ITS ALMOST OVEEEERRRR!1! * tear * My baby! T_T I don't wanna leave it! But every coming-of-age / romance story has to end, right. :( Sniffle. Damn, talk about short notice and me being the queen of it. You did realize things were closing up after last chapter, right? If not, then...I need better closure plans (Foreshadowing). But yeah. One more chapter and a mega epilogue and we're done. ... -tries to hold to together- Shit, I'm gonna be so tired tomorrow. I already have sleep problems. Dumb anxiety. Ahh, okay, I'm done. Goodnight to whoever gonna read this at this time. ;P Good day to the rest of ya! :] **


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Day Of Change

I smirked before opening my eyes, vivid images of last night flashing by me. Miley and I had fucked. She was gorgeous and I got it in and it _sooo_ good.

I opened my eyes to see the ceiling fan spinning and dancing in sunlight. What time was it? "Urggh," I stretched and looked over to the side table.

"Morning, slut."

"Mornin'," I snorted. She would...all the way at the dresser.

Miley came and climbed onto the bed. She met my face and kissed me. A long, lingering kiss this was. My tongue entered and mused and I got the same in returned. Swelling, we broke and leaned ours head together. Silence but the ceiling fan.

"...Hi," she spoke to speak.

I agreed. "Yeah,"

I smiled, ready to change the subject. "So," I said, nodding to the new-found, wide, open book on the side table. "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oxford sociology," she said back. She reached for the book on the opposite of me and pulled to sit on her heels. "Did you know men make up only nineteen percent of elementary school teachers?"

I pouted—shook my head.

"It's said to be one of the reasons boys underachieve on an educational standpoint, you know."

I nodded. "Ah, I'm sure my mother told me then."

"She studied sociology?"

"She did," I said. "How do you think this book got here?"

Mi shrugged and set the text down. "It's fascinating." she mused.

I sat right up and got off the bed. I remember something, staring at my pants on the ground.

"Mi," I'd addressed. "What happened last night?"

"Sex."

I blushed. Sex. "_After_ that."

"Well, I went back down in a while and said the party was over."

"It was only eleven." I furrowed my brows.

"I said _in a while_."

"Which meant?"

"Like quarter to one,"

"Quarter_ to one?_" I gaped. "What were you doing up here 'till quarter to one?"

"Watching you sleep."

I turned and gawked at her.

"Oh, like you've never done it," she'd defended herself. "You're cute when you sleep. Really cute." she smiled softly.

I blushed harder. "Just...don't do it again."

"Fair enough."

"Alright,"

The memories came back in bad-signal and I remembered my mom and dad. And Demi and Joe, and more hot sex.

Ahhh, sex.

_Focus_!

Mother.

I pulled some on pants—probably the ones from last night but who knows—and turned away from Mi, heading out the room.

Down the hall, I reached the master.

Knock, knock.

Nothing.

I checked my watch, knocking some more. 11:40. She'd be up by now.

_Shit. _

I knocked again and shook the knob. Unlocked.

_Shit._

Dad always locked the door. Not that a locked door was a good thing with his temper, but things were not normal. Normalcy was key in this house—_his_ house.

I moved with tenderness, just in case. Scared out of my skin I controlled the door with my hand on my knob, gripping, letting streams of light into the room.

This was the first time I'd been in here in years, and as I looked around as far as I could it, all came back to me. The bed adjacent to the door-horizontal so Dad could roll out and leave-, the dresser beyond that, a window greater than mine on the other side.

...A woman.

Alone.

And there it was: a lump in the sheets, soundless and motionless, as usual, light lemming across it.

"Mom?"

Her back was turned. She didn't budge.

"Mom!" I called a little louder, voice now trembling.

I came into the room and advanced on her—shook her body.

"Mommy?"

She snapped. Alive...or at least awake.

And with the eyes of a beetle she looked up at me, frazzled and shocked. God, I had photo-memory of that face. She was a mess. A heartbroken mess.

"Mom?" I almost sulked. I hated seeing her like this.

Her vacant blink was an invite (more or less) to join her in bed and crawled in like I was 6 years old, sitting beside her and sliding into the blankets. I put my arm around her. She breathed, settling into my shoulder.

In a moment she'd swallowed. "...He's hopeless," she whispered. The light of both the hall and the window passed through then, illuminating her—making her look older than she was. My grandmother. It was the stress of it all. She was beautiful and youthful in real life.

I understood.

"He's hopeless," she repeated and I hugged her closer.

I sat there, almost rocking her in the silence. And she began to sob. Harder and harder every second. And I held her, coming to the brink of tears myself. He was hopeless.

"I never wanted it to end this way," she cried. She was folding into me. "I loved him so much,"

I chomped down on my lower lip. "I know,"

She cried some more onto my bare chest and shook like it was cold in here; the end of June. It had come to me Mommy and Daddy were breaking up and it wasn't long 'till I was crying—surely not as violently, but nevertheless. I'm still not sure if I was crying of sadness or relief. We were safe, but alone. And we did not own this place.

"Mom?" I asked.

Nothing.

"When do we have to get outta here?"

"By 5,"

I ruffled my hair. Soon. "And then?"

"Your grandma's."

I nodded. A bad question hit me. "What happened?"

Did I really want to know?

She sighed and brought her hands to her curled stomach.

"I'm pregnant." she squeaked.

"Da fuck?" I shot, brainlessly.

"Nicholas."

"I'm sorry. I thought you said you were fucking pregnant." I babbled, tears still streaming down my face.

"Nic_olas_."

"Oh my God." I swore in vain, jumping out of the sheets. "Oh my God, it's true." I held my skull together for dear life. "Oh God, is it _his_?"

She nodded.

"Why?" I hissed.

"I didn't choose this, baby!"

Oh, the irony of her calling me Baby. She started to cry again and I sat down at the other side of the room's chair. In a minute, Miley had appeared, curious, and she found two Lucases bawling in one space.

"She's pregnant," I choked when she looked at me.

Mi turned to Mom and she had melted to sympathy. "Oh, honey!" she cried and flew to her. "I'm so sorry." She hugged.

It was decided. The next I saw my father I would kill him with my own bare hands. With my own bare hands, I would kill him cold.

"He found out and he was so angry." Denise recounted. "He-he told me he'd get rid of it any way he could." She'd cried so hard she was dizzy; I could tell. "He hates me."

"He does not," Mi countered.

"He tried—" my mother hiccuped without having the hiccups. She rested onto Mi. "He tried to hurt it."

_Die, you bastard._ I was shaking.

"You're alright, though, right?" Mi asked.

She nodded.

Rubbing her arm in a half-hold, "Well," my girlfriend said softly. "This is the beginning of the end. You divorce him," she instructed. "make sure he gets no custody and move forward." she said. "You deserve so much better than that."

"Thank you, Miley." my mother humbled.

They hugged a final time and Miley got up and sauntered over to comfort me next. On the rug, she squatted down in front of me—wiped my tears. I laughed at myself.

"Okay, I know I tell you to forget about the past,"

_You sure do, baby._

"But if you wanna be mad, be mad."

I nodded in thanks.

"I really sorry," she said, pushing her hands back through her wet cuffs. "We're gonna take care of this. All of us. Together. ...Nobody's gonna be alone." she vowed. She grabbed my face and looked at me. Sincerity. "I promise."

Staring into her pretty ponds I smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

We kissed.

Miley smiled and stood up, releasing my face. "I gonna make some phone calls. You check on your brother and Demi; she spent the night."

Miley and her wonderful self pecked my cheek and left the room.

I watched her booty, mesmerized by all she was for a moment.

"You got a good girl." Ma croaked as the door swung behind her.

"Thank you,"

"I had my doubts," she confessed.

"I know." I said. "She was just misguided."

"Aren't we all?"

I scoffed meaninglessly and stood, making my way out. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too."

"Call if you need anything." I muttered shutting the door.

The hallway felt like another dimension. Maybe I was new person, in a new life. Or, maybe the tears made me half crazy in the head.

I made it to Joe's door and cleared my face of dry tear stains. No bother knocking: too much work, I just opened the door.

"_Nick!_"

And what a mistake that was.

There was Demetria, standing with a bed sheet covering her naked body. The mattress was stripped.

"_Demi?_" I knew who it was.

My good friend's hair was frazzled. Too frazzled. Sex hair.

Miley's hair this morning.

Her make up was slept-together-smudged, her hands shook. She was beetle-eyed. Had we _all_ gotten laid last night?

Joe, in that very second, came out of his on suite much too casual.

He really _never_ had a clue.

"What the fuck is going on here?" I burst.

"Wha—Oh!" Joe spoke. The reality sank in. He looked at me, realizing the weight of his actions. But not nearly as much as me. He never saw as much as I did. "...Oh_hh_."

"Do you see what you _did_?" I'd hissed, teeth clenched and fuming. When I'd received no answer, I threw my arm Demi's way. "You had _sex_...with _Demi_."

He stared at me. An 'Yeah, annndd?'-esque way that drove me nuts.

"Demi is _not okay!_ She's sick! She doesn't know what she needs! You can't just fuck around with her like this!" I shouted.

"Like _what?_"

"Leading, her, on," I said. "You're married_, re-mem-ber?_ You said you loved _Antoinette_ just yesterday!"

"We broke up," he muttered.

I looked to Demi who was looking disturbed backed right into the corner. She got it.

And I took advantage of it.

"Demi," I began, turning to her. I would now be Atticus Finch for a few moments. "Did Joe tell you he loved you last night?"

Wide eyes. Nothing.

"Did he say anything at all?"

Nothing.

I hummed, on full lawyer mode. "At the party? Before he got in your pants? During the fuck? _Anything_ sentimental at all?"

"No," she'd mumbled.

"No," I repeated, whipping to Joe. "No_**?**_"

"Well..."

"Well?"

"It was no strings."

"You little—!"

"Nick!" Demi popped. "It's alright. I'm fine." She moved toward Joe and set her hands at her chest, keeping the sheet up on her. "Thank you," she said sadly.

I was shocked. She was _thanking_ him?

"It was wonderful."

And with such grace she snatched up her dress and panties and left.

Silence fell over us.

"I'm telling." I shot.

"It's over." He said, mocking my tattletale tone. "Seriously though, it's over."

"What happened?"

"Her dad..." he led.

"And _then_?" I led.

"And then, I went up there and they were hosting the fucking Bachelorette in the den."

"And she was happy?"

"No, but I was."

I stared. What?

"Come on, she's a lot to handle," and a giggle.

"Then why were you upset when her dad dumped you?"

"I don't know," he plopped on the sheetless bed. "I wanted to be married. Bad."

More staring.

"I mean, you and Kevin are smart...you played sports, and music..books. And Frankie: he's cute. I mean, I gotta be _something_. I've done nothing in my life but get high and grow finger-blisters."

"And you thought if you married Terrance Fletching's daughter, you'd be something."

He nodded.

"Ha!" I laughed by half-accident. "You're a _dumbass!_" I blew. "...But...you're not a bad guy."

He said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I muttered to myself. I waltzed over and sat on his opposite, our backs making an L.

"So...Mom and Dad split." I may have said that too coolly.

"What?" I felt his eyes burning my shoulder.

"And she's pregnant."

"_What?_"

"My thoughts exactly."

"So, she cheated?"

"No..." I lingered the 'o' long enough—dark enough—for him to get it. I couldn't form the word.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, God. Is she alright?"

"Apparently. The test worked; she's gotta be at least a few weeks in, right? That means it happened a while ago. She's all right. She is hurt and scared," I concluded. "but alright."

I heard my brother swallow in growing silence. "Don't you just wanna kill Dad?" he'd said suddenly. "Like strangle him? ...Please, Lord, have mercy, but..."

"Yeah," I answered.

"Hn,"

"We got 5 hours to get out of here." I said blatantly.

"Bastard,"

"Tell me,"

"Can we kill 'im, Nick? Can we? Please?"

"No, Joe, we can't"

"Gah, and I had my plastic spoons all ready!"

I laughed. "Shut up, you annoying lighthouse."

"Demi," he brought up as I got up and I winced.

"...is with Knight." I said and it was not a lie. They'd made up at the recital after talking "it" out and what I'd seen was simply him _"listening for his son"_. He could've been lying or I could've been stressed, but that didn't matter. "Don't mess with it anymore."

"I won't," he vowed.

I went for the door and paused. "Joseph?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"Whatever."

"Dude..."

He laughed. "Love you too, sappy-pants."

"You should see Mom." I advised.

"Already on it."

I turned and he was standing. And then I left.

x.0.x –**4 hrs. and 56 mins. Later– **x.0.x

"Frankie, you need help with your stuff?" Miley shouted up the basement staircase.

"Nah, I'm good." He was ascending with a SUV load of Tonka Trucks and assembly train pieces. Add that with the Harry Potter mini-series and his drumset in a separate box and it's safe to say he was ripped. Must of been all that time at his friend's house; his father was body builder.

Frank disappeared at the top the stairs and we were left alone, boxes all around.

I sighed, and looked around at the emptiness. Damn, Frank was such a good sport. The news was shared on his car ride home and he literally just went to room and began to pack. In a later conversation, he shared just as little.

"Lo que serà, serà, right?" he said.

"So...you're not mad?"

He laughed out loud. "Gosh, no," he lowered his voice. "We all know it's better this way."

I laughed, too. "Ah, Frank." I kissed his head. "You're so...great. Hard to believe you're still ten."

"Hey, you grow up a lot around P90X."

He didn't shake his head of cooties this time. And I had a feeling he didn't when I smiled and left.

"You ready to go?" Miley snapped me back to reality. Tupperware full of clothes were in her hands.

I looked at her and then again at the basement. Sixteen years with this basement under me. Kevin smashing the PlayStation with Donkey Kong inside in '98, Joe and "the artists" tumbling peace-fog into the air, Monopoly with Mom and Frank just months ago.

It was all over now.

"Yeah." I said it under my breath. I picked up the rest of the boxes (we would leave Dad nothing but his loveseat in the living room) and met Miley at the stairs. My eyes told her 'Ladies first' and I followed her up each gentle step. It was so quiet and yet the world was changing. Mentally I felt the floors shaking and cracking under the pressure. I'd place my feet over the breaks to keep the path together but the more I stepped, the more of the past fell through. It was over now. And it was bittersweet. I ran my center finger along the banister, the old paint being invisibly polished. This was the last time I'd do this out of anxiety or excitement. I smiled to myself just a little. Some high school/college freshman is going to love this place. My life lurking in shadows, seeping through every crease in the hardwood.

I reached the landing, four steps continuing, and paused. I was ready. To move forward.

"Miley," I called, just a step from me.

She looked over her beautiful shoulder.

"Miley, marry me."

My eyes grew. _Crap. _I didn't think. The words just...came. _Crap._

But I was serious.

She lift a brow, chimed a single note of laughter though it was obvious I had her breathless.

"What?" she beamed incredulously.

"I don't know, I just wanna know you're...you know, mine. 'Cause I love you and _change _isn't really my thing..." I had myself breathless.

She had turned fully and descending toward me, tupperware on the landing.

She paused at my face and leaned her head against mine and it was like the first time I looked at her when she said "I'm not going anywhere. In case you haven't noticed," she continued, "you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I really don't think we need to be married for you to know that." She smiled. "We're perfect for each other."

I did the same.

Mi wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me. All felt well against her beating chest.

"But yes," she hummed in my ear like the greatest secret. "I'll marry you."

- x.0.x – **5 minutes after that... **- x.0.x

"Come on, let's go!" Selena yelled from the driveway, hopped up on her flats.

I flung our bags over my shoulder and pulled the door open. "Ladies first," I spoke to Miley.

She left.

And then I did.

We met the family at the driveway on this beautiful, sunny day, white ripped puffs spread on the sky. Wind drifting through our hair, we stocked the truck of the Explorer, garbage bags included. Filled to capacity with nothing left, I shut the door.

"I'm going to miss you on this street."

I spun. Demi.

I smiled softly. _Oh, D_.

"Like, I'm gonna wanna surprise-visit you and drive this block five times before I remember you don't live here."

"It's twenty minutes, Dem." I said to comfort her.

"Yeah, and you're gonna _owe _me for gas."

"After you slept with my brother? Not a chance."

She made a face. "Touche."

I rolled my eyes and then opened my arms, did a finger wiggle. "...Come here, D,"

She smiled her smile. And in a second her arms were around me. Tight. "Have a wonderful, wonderful move." she said, her voice fake cracking. "I miss you already."

I loved her dramatic ways. "Thank you." I sent her a few pats on the back. And then some more.

She got the gist.

"So...last night..." she swayed the question, nodding hintingly.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Oh my God!" she clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God!" she squealed.

"De_mi_!"

"I mean, I thought you were when I came up but I didn't know, know. Then of course Iheardyournameloudand_clear_when_I_wasdoingJoebut,like,whoknowsCould''abeenTickleStripPoker—"

Joe honked the horn and Miley laughed from what I saw in the trunk window.

"Let's go!" He called.

"Hold your horses!" D called right back. She looked back at me. She patted my shirt and fixed my quaff and smiled. "Impress your suburb." She pushed me toward the car door. "Now go before your crazy daddy gets here."

I stumbled to the handle and waved goodbye. I crouched in, folding sloppily between Miley and Selena Rusto (God bless her heart; the "plan" was her idea and worked in the goodness of her brother, who had his 5 bedroom, 3 bath for rent. Ben was the only reason she hadn't moved right in, but now she could.)

My brother started the car and Mi slid the door closed. I looked out the rear view and watched D step aside and head backwards to her car. I waved goodbye again and so did the rest of them, even Sel and Alex with their little hands.

"Buh-bye!" Alex crooned, waving vigorously like she knew Demi better than I at 10 months old. "Buh-bye."

"Yes, honey." Selena said, trying to calm her. "Buh-bye!"

"She gets it."

And we drove off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ... Happy New Year, my loves. xox3**


	21. Epilogue: Part I

**A/N: So, we're coming to the end. :( Truly this time...almost. I just wanna say thanks for everything. Your reading and reviews flatter me so much and they honestly make me want to write more and write better to keep ~impressing you and making you happy. Thank you Thank you Thank you. This was so much fun for me (NERD STAT). It also shocked me none of you cared when Nick got kicked outta school. LOL. Doesn't matter. Demi was **supposed to** overshadow that with her issues. And now, all is well. And now that Ungodly Hours is almost..."the _f word_" -chokes back tears- I have time for It's Time Like These, which I was supposed to working on at the same time. Guess I'm not balanced like some.  
>And to Brandy, Thank You...but I'm truly not gifted. <strong> I'm just obsessed with sounding smart. <strong>This A/N alone took 2 rewrites. :P**

**Anyway, enjoy Part I of the epilogue, everyone (and lol :) to ColourMyWorld, who haunted me like Jaylor 2.0 haunted Taylor Swift)****. **

**I love you.**

* * *

><p><strong>- x. 0. x -<strong>

**Epilogue – Part I**

September rolled around after a spectacular summer, filled with unpacking and French toast and days out in the hot sun with drumsticks. Mom, Frank and Sel's cottage-esque home was now comfy in every sense. (Joe tried to "spice it up" with his flat screen but the cozy overshadowed it effortlessly. He would be living there until Adele was born, or so he said. He'd live with Mom 'till his forties, I had a feeling.)

By that time, Mother had a good bump around her. She was ecstatic. By October, little _Adele_ was found and dubbed. Ma's first little girl and she was over the moon. Made us guys feel pretty crappy.

Hunter College was where Miley and I would spend 60 percent of our time: I continued to study Business Management and Miley studied Sociology and English on the side. Mom was also happy I'd found another school. It wasn't _quite_ suited with my academic past, but it was a school.

Demi and Knight were...happy, to my surprise. Demi started and completed her treatment between July and September and had herself a shameless slab of Happy College Acceptance Nick & Miley Cake just a few weeks ago. Knight was supporting her and round-ol' Courtney Tyne both. He kissed D like she was precious and kissed Knight Cooper Dylan III **[A/N: I'm sorry, the name! LOL!]** like he was the next FIFA champ locked in a womb.

As of now, October 25th 7:45 am, Mi, Demetria, me, and Frank (who was now 11 and proud as hell) sat in a tree.

It was beautiful, the way the warm-spectrum-coloured leaves of raspberry, orange and dark lemon cascaded amongst us. Shaking in our happy faces for catches in seconds.

"Ah!" Miley gasped and giggled, a spotted leaf landing on the bridge of her glasses. "Okay, I'm gonna blow this, and if you catch it, Nick, I'll be what you want for Halloween." she purposed, swaying to balance it where it was.

I pulled my arms out in front of her, a limb down. "You'll be Marilyn Monroe?"

"Mm-h'm,"

Frank whistled.

She bowed her head and blew it my lucky way and I snatched it in a second.

"Lucky," Mi said with a smirk. She climbed down from her branch and sat in my lap.

I reached into my bag and grabbed my apple. She 'Aah'-ed and I fed it to her, her leaning into me. "I love Macintosh. What time's it?" she asked with her mouth full.

"Soon," I said. I knew she had class.

"M'm," and she put on my Yankee's cap.

"So how's _Paul_ doing?" Demi muttered, hoping maybe I wouldn't hear if I didn't want to.

This was the first time she'd asked and she had chosen a serene time, so,

"Shit," I answered, "Completely incompetent, completely ridiculous, completely on his way to getting kicked outta rehab." I stated. "Thanks for calling him Paul."

"No problem."

"Guys!" Mother shouted.

We gazed down at her at the backyard screen door.

"Breakfast is ready!"

I dropped my leaf and started me and Miley's climb down. Down on Demi's level I saw her face. Undecided.

"You can stay, D." I said.

She smiled now. "I shouldn't,"

"You'd rather have Trix in a Styrofoam cup?"

...

"Okay, who's gonna say grace?" Ma asked. Her stomach stopped her from inching any closer to the table.

"I'll do it," I piped.

"Alright,"

Joe sat down with the sausages and clasped his hands together.

"Okay, Lord," I began. "Thank you for this beautiful meal, prepared by my all too blessed mother. May you continue to serve us such riches, like food and shelter and health, as well as the ability to care for little Adele, who is to come into this world on your mark...which should be four months from now."

Mom snickered.

"Thank you for bringing us all together again with a beautiful addition, Miss Demetria. Thank you again for Selena Rusto who has saved us of all from danger and poverty. Bless her and her daughter over and over, I pray. And now, Lord, we shall enjoy this meal in your honor. In Jesus' name we pray, amen."

"...And that was Nicholas Lucas with _Grace_." Joe joked.

The table of eight laughed with the exception of Mom, who smacked Joseph in the arm.

"I just have a lot to be thankful for." I looked to Miley, who I purposely forgot to save ourselves the embarrassment.

She blushed.

Mom said, "Yes, you do. We all do. Now dig in before you're late."

- x. 0. x -

I set the last candle around the bed in her dorm and sat on the sheets. She'd be here any minute and everything was perfect.

_Wait._

I looked around.

Okay, now everything was perfect.

The lock of the door took a shake and the tingles from day one returned. Just like they always did when she entered a room.

She came in, dawned in a fall dress and my cardigan. She almost tripped stopping in awe when she saw the room. The draped curtains, candlelight, me: top-half-naked and here for the taking, the _amative_ music.

"Wow," she gaped.

I stood up and walked over to her. She lifted her face.

"Hi," she almost whispered. But her lips already brushed mine. Her breath hovered my tongue, driving me crazy, and she kissed me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, reading my mind.

She broke off. "What's this for?" she whispered, smiling.

"You being Miley."

She giggled and kissed me again, lazing her mouth around mine and rolling her tongue in.

I brought my hands on her hips and guided her to the bed, my tongue twisting with hers. I laid her down and climbed on top.

Mi puckered and broke again. "Hey...don't you think it's funny over half of people you're close with is either an ex-fiancee, divorced or with child?"

I stared. This was true. Dad left Mom, Antoinette left Joe, Miley left Josh, and Selena left Ben. On the other claim, Selena had Alex, Mom was pregnant, and Demi was expecting a stepson in twelve weeks.

Wow.

"Yeah...it is funny." I nodded.

"I think we were all brought together for a reason." Miley explained, taking off the cardigan. "We all _get_ each other. Give someone else a reason to keep going. I mean, what would Mom do without Selena and Joe? And what would Joe do without a friend like Demi? And what would Frankie do without Mom? And who _knows_ where I'd be without that fake sandwich."

"Yeaaah, I mean, and. Wait—what?"


	22. Epilogue: Part II

**Epilogue: Part II**

18 MONTHS LATER

I'd visited Selena to find Adele sitting on her little tush before a Barbie mirror, completely wonder-stuck. Her hazel eyes wandered the glass, pondering why there were two of her.

Alexandra—now two and then some—would boss her around, I heard...whenever she held the opportunity. She had upgraded from pulling Adele's hair whilst she slept and now used words like "Stop" and "Mine" and few other graceless ones in _Español_.

My sister's hair had grown just like mine and my mother's, full and curly and dark. She wore her favourite bow-lined headband with her favourite white dress four days a week and she despised socks with a screaming passion. She liked the guitar and she liked to somersault (also known as: watch _Miley_ somersault and liked her Jasmine pampers. Her favourite juice was KoolAid... and that I'd brought on my visit.

I appeared in the mirror slowly as to not scare her and she grew shocked. Her plump lips drew a gasp and her eyelids blinked. '_I was alone'_ she said. She reached out to the glass to touch me..._or_ wipe me out, I wasn't sure.

"Ah," she shrieked of amusement when I moved.

_Oh, Adele._ I smiled and shifted to one foot, grabbing my sister from behind and lifting her to my rib.

She shrieked again and laughed and flailed in joy. I was real.

"Hey, you." I greeted and kissed her cheek.

"Mah!"

"Good, enough." I bounced her up and down a little bit and let her hug me. "Ah, I love you."

Miley came around the kitchen door frame. "So, how was the meeting, Mr. President?"

I cocked my head up. "Very good." I said. I sauntered over and kissed her deeply. "Everything's on board." I hissed, breaking.

"Great," she said pecking me chastely. "And they liked the logo?"

"Thought it was cute," I offered, going loud when she retreated back to the stove.

"So...?"

"Yes, it's a go." I shifted Adele and leaned against the door frame.

"Beautiful."

"Indeed," I agreed. "And Haley's taking care of text work."

"Aww, that was nice of her."

Catch up time?

Dad had over one-hundred-and-eighty-thousand dollars in his name, and since he hadn't signed a prenuptial agreement in '85 under Vegas skies, Mom earned herself 98,000 of it. (The extra eight thousand was rewarded for having a minor under her custody and being impregnated by assault.) Paul was also ordered to paid 25,000/yr. in child support, which would drop to 12,000 when Frank turned eighteen or if Dad happened to lose his position at the office.

Ma supported Adele and Frankster with the money but when Miley found her father had died in drunk-driving incident, she knew she had to do something. 5 months into our studies it had hit us. It may've hit _me_ first, but who cares. A foundation. A foundation based on the idea of a better life. Who better to tell teenagers about life than people like us? And as if there weren't already like 100 other foundations like ours, we got to work. While my father was banished to rehab as he begged to see Adele with crocodile tears, his vice Gregory was put in charge for the time being. Gregory had a soft spot for women beyond his tough-guy exterior and when Miley and I appeared a year onto our bachelors, he was all ears. A sponsor proposition this was, with fancy graphs, booklets and key-frames of September 2016. I had Adele latched to my side and spoke the benefits she'd have with IsThough as well as the babies like here worldwide.

"Ladies, gentlemen," I'd said, pacing the floor while Adele ate her fingers. "I don't think there'll be any investment like this one. It is honestly a win-win. We get our 25 K, and the co-promotion plasters over my father's wrongs for the company...publicly, anyway. So, what do you say?"

Gregory turned to his staff, a tagged group of Lindsay, Haley, Don, Michael, and others. "He's got a point. I mean, a foundation for kids growing up right, learning, getting educated, fucking _charity_? It's gold. For any company. And Paul's already in rehab, so it's basically good PR from the get-go." I heard from a variety of different voices.

"...Alright, kid, you got it."

And that we did. We bought out four offices on the 13th floor and that was where we spent after school time. It felt amazing to ride the elevator to _my_ office. To hear my mother was 'on the line'. To hang a giant picture of myself making austere face in a suit while adjusting my tie. Unnecessary, but cool.

"What the fuck is this?" Miley cried when she first laid eyes on it.

"Haha, ya like it?" I mused.

"I...t...!" she couldn't even.

I smiled, amused by her reaction. "Yeah. Demi got it for me."

She stared, eyes still wide open.

I understood; even I got lost in my stubble.

"You want one for your office?" I teased, walking over to grab her. I wrapped my arms 'round her waist.

She bobbed her yes.

...

"Well, there you go." I huffed under a week later having placed Miley's portrait on the wall.

"Aww," she mewled. "I look cute."

"You do," in that yellow sundress and grey accessories. It was the first time I'd seen her freckles, in that sunlight. God, Munro Studios had impeccable HD. I had _slept _with the woman and saw nothing of that uniqueness. She was beautiful.

I kissed her.

...

"So, D, are you in?" I asked the following weekend from the portraits.

"Hell yeah," she said. "This is so VH1."

"Ha! I'll see you Thursday."

- x0x – ** 5 Years Later** – x0x -

T'was our fourth school on the tour. It was getting pretty comfortable: presenting our stories to these should-be-bored-outta-brains kids.

"I have a question."

"Yes," I called to the girl.

"Nick, what made you love Miley?"

I smiled. It was the first time I was asked this by anyone. I was blushing. "Well," I said, shifting on my feet. "...um...I'd be lying if I said it was all emotional, I mean," I stretched my arm my fiancee's direction. "Look at her," I said and chuckled.

The males hooted and Miley smiled, did a tiny curtsy.

The faculty looked lighthearted and warningly at me. "Get to the point," the principal's eyes said.

"_But_...um, there was attraction. It was basically love at first sight. I loved how headstrong she was, and how independent she behaved without me. I loved her sense of humor, you know, I love how she teases me about being such a _worry-wart_ and a _downer_."

The audience laughed, hearts light.

"We're opposites," I said. "and we attracted. That's life. I mean, I'm work and she's play. I'm sand, she's water. You always need balance in your life, right? And honestly, the fact our stories are similar is a bonus. It's irrelevant to the actual _romance_. I'd honestly love whether she was an addict or not, or had family issues or not." I confessed. "I love _her_. Those things just make us closer as _people_,not as lovers."

I heard the girls aww.

"Miley, have you ever written a song for Nick?" another student shouted.

She laughed at the question, adjusting my guitar at her tummy. "Umm...yes...kinda."

"Sing it. I love your voice!" she shouted, and her friends "whoop"-ed in agreement.

"Anything to get outta class." Miley laughed. She still didn't know why I got her to sing as a part the presentation. She was "basic". Demi on the other hand, bored the crowd. They were expecting chops from Harvard NEC Graduate.

"Okay, okay, I'll sing. Just once more, though. You gotta learn, get to class. I promise, you'll thank me."

Two muted beats and As I Am was on a roll.

Demi, Miley, Adele and I, alongside the local punk band Seeking Continuum would tour the state school to school, presenting our stories and inspiring (to the best of our abilities, of course; there's only so much attention a fifteen year old can give at 11 AM.)

Miley and I would marry in Nashville, a year following the tour and getting her 'Josh' removed, surrounded by her family. All of it. Chris, Jackson, Lilly, Oliver, Trace and her daddy's whole side. I do.

Demi would become an executive producer on Broadway and star in few herself. Turns out music wasn't truly her passion, but a release, and that of which she continued to execute on our other tours. In her mid-thirties, she became a kindergarten teacher and that made her happy when Knight slowly began to fade from her picture. Trent was the name of her second husband and he wouldn't be her last. She dabbled in journalism, anchored the news, wrote a book on reality shows—She was happy, paired or sole. And Lord only know why she continued to fuck Joe as a hobby.

Speaking of Joe, I was right. He did live with Ma even after she moved out of Sel's place. But he did serve as a good influence to Adele, who was taught to write by him and had an extraordinary imagination due to his sock puppets. He took photographs again after his divorce and worked for an advertising agency. Again, there would be a 'tunnel' at _home_. Mom simply enjoyed life. She married a second time to a David, who Addie would know as Dad. He was pretty successful in his field of law and supported them well. Eventually, of course, Addie would have to know about Paul, but she was so young.

Kevin and Danielle had twins: two boys, Jack and Logan, who were six when we met them in 2014. They weren't planning on seeing us often, for they were happy to had begun again around _her_ family. The middle class looked wonderful. The Costi's looked wonderful. I envied them.

Though, I had no reason to. I was so happy married, being able to work with my wife and best friend, bettering people's lives as a living. This past summer we travelled to Haiti and built a classroom from the ground up. The smiles I'd seen were incredible. My life perfect. And whatever was thrown at it would be dismantled and re-pieced to our advantage.

"I love you," Miley whispers, cuddling next to me in my chair. We were closing the office.

"I love you, too." I shifted over to give her space in one-only. Our luggage toppled over beside the chair. It was 9 pm and we were hanging about. I wrapped my arm around her.

"We did a great thing this summer." she beamed. "You really are an angel." she husked, sliding her fingers down my chest.

I moaned. "I can't wait to get you home."

Miley snaked her hand under the seat and pulled the recliner. I jolted back, my heart meeting my spine for a second. "Who's says you have to get me home?" she crooned, crawling onto me. We met noses and she kissed me, her hands surfing my hair. I complied immediately, my hands sliding to her ass. I squeezed and slapped.

"You are such a slut. This is sexual harassment!" I yelped when she rubbed against my bulge.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well...Thank you...again. I'm glad you enjoyed this and I hope you review. I love you. **

**- Complete -**


End file.
